Beautiful
by Arhani 'Hanny' Daforcena
Summary: She was sent to kill him, that young, beautiful girl, but still, he needed to see her again. This woman whose eyes of sapphire that burned his very soul... When Joseph Allen's role is taken by a woman, how will she change the events of MW2? Makarov OC.
1. Prologue

MacTavish lunged towards Shepherd, but in his weakened state, the General was able to retaliate just before he could deliver the blow, taking him by the wrist and sending his head smashed onto the vehicle's frame, temporarily rendering him unable to move. His body fell onto the floor with a thud, and he could see Shepherd taking his knife, about to stab it into him... He was a man accustomed to pain, trained to withstand torture, and he knew that Shepherd would not hit his heart, judging from his position and the way he held the weapon...

A gunshot was heard.

When MacTavish opened his eyes again, he saw Shepherd, kneeling on the floor, clutching his side. He would definitely die of bloodloss from that shot, but who was the one responsible for it?

"This ends now, Shepherd," it was a voice of a female, a woman. MacTavish slowly got up, and found a woman with gold hair and sapphire eyes, in body armor, carrying a M4A1 in her hands. "You won't be able to send more Americans to their deaths any more, Makarov's men have already destroyed Shadow Company, and you're gonna be a dead man."

Shepherd winced, and looked at the woman with great vehemence. "Allen," he spat, "Never thought that you'd actually associate with the man that you were sent to take down, but it just makes the two of us the same people, right?"

Whatever it was, the woman did not allow him to speak further. She pulled the trigger of the weapon in her hands, and Shepherd was dead within seconds, lying in the pool of his own blood. "He always talked too damned much," she told MacTavish, picking up his knife, and did the unthinkable... Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, leaving the knife in her abdomen in full view of MacTavish. Her sapphire eyes were turned towards the distance, as if she could see someone else that MacTavish could not, and she smiled before she collapsed onto the ground...

* * *

HAN: To all of you who might ask: HEY, it's just the same as the previous "Beautiful"! Well, it is, technically. I made a mistake in not standing my ground to what others have thought about this little fanfic of mine, trying to change in to their liking. But now, I've seen the light, and I'm putting my foot down. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you feel that the OC in this one is almost like the OC in the Red Dragon, then it almost is, because I imagined how would it be if Ryuka was sent for Joseph Allen's part instead, but that would be highly confusing, so I projected her in another likeness with some quirks of Anya/Maria's own. I have pretty much of the plot planned out, and I really hope that you all have a great time reading this. ^.^


	2. Beautiful RATED M

Vladimir Makarov had expected an American agent from the CIA, but not a woman, definitely not a woman like the one standing right before him. Gold hair, sapphire eyes, height enough to match his, she looked nothing like a battle-hardened soldier. _She's fast and deadly, one of our best snipers,_ Shepherd had told him several weeks before. He could see that she was more than that… In that beautiful shell, was a warrior's soul, raging for his blood.

"Vladimir Makarov I presume?" she asked. Her voice, it was light and melodious, her Russian, utterly flawless. He could tell that she was not some gun-toting babe; she was an intellectual from the tone of her voice. She would have to have a certain amount of bravado to even accept this mission, to be sent to her death by a leader that she trusted with, ironically, her life.

Pulling his lips into a tight smile, he nodded, and opened the door wider to allow her to enter into the apartment that had functioned as their hideout before their big mission. "You have deceived me," he told her, gazing into those wild, sapphire eyes, making sure that she had a good look of him as well. "Your superiors told me to expect one Alexei Borodin."

To those words, she merely offered a chuckle. "All men are sexist bigots," she told him, rolling her eyes a little to prove her point. "I used a male name to get in, so that those who have not seen me would not dismiss me before they could see that I am very good in what I do…" With those words, she took the steak-knife lying carelessly on the dinner table and threw it towards the floor, effectively killing a three-inch long cockroach then and there. "And I can assure you that."

Makarov had to hand it to her, she was rather… impressive. "And what is your real name, my dear?" he asked her, pulling the cockroach off the knife and throwing it into the kitchen sink nearby.

"Anya," she told him, as though challenging him to stare her down again with those bright eyes of hers. "I do not know my last name; I was brought up an orphan." Indeed, a perfect cover story. If anything his men quickly believed her, and started introducing themselves to her, trusting her almost immediately.

Oh, how wrong they were…

That gaze in her eyes had not been one that belonged to a young woman, angered and disillusioned by the government, it had been one that belonged to a young woman who was sent only for one mission: to kill them all. They said that the best acting was to act with a mask on, to portray many emotions with only one single face, but Makarov knew, that the best, was to make one's face into a mask, and that was what she was doing.

After the proper introductions had been given, they quickly started to prepare for their attack on Zhakaev International Airport. Escape routes had to be memorized, FSB forces, anticipated, flight schedules, the amount of people that would be there… Every single detail could not be afforded to be overlooked.

As young as she looked to be, "Anya" proved herself to be extreme intelligent. It did not take her long to realize that in the attack, her role was to flush out any members of the public that might try to run and hide in the numerous outlets in the airport for Makarov to pick off. She even managed to discover courses of action that they could not figure out themselves already, like, escaping in some form of transportation which no one would suspect… Like… an ambulance… That would work.

That very night, Anya had been sent out with Kiril and Lev to acquire one such vehicle, and they had returned with a fruitful bounty. Quickly, they cleared the ambulance of all of its medical equipments and whatnot, replacing them with more ammunitions and weapons that she could ever imagine a small bunch of people could even possess.

"I must commend you, Anya," Makarov said to her when they had managed to stock the ambulance rather well. "We could not have done it without you." The others have already retired, but she was still sitting in the living room, staring into space, as though she was deep in thought.

"Always glad to help," she said, smiling, but only a little. However, that smile drove Makarov almost crazy. It made him want to know what was in her head right now, and he knew that he could not read a single thing from her. He was now right beside her, trying to figure her out… What had she been promised, in exchange for such a deadly mission as this? The murder of civilians, was not actually a thing that anyone would want for themselves willingly, and yet, this woman would just go through it, for the chance to kill him? What had he done to her in the distant past that she would pay such a price, her very own soul, just to see him dead?

Perhaps he was being a little too sensitive. Perhaps she was just another highly patriotic and slightly dimwitted American, who, like her countrymen, would believe anything that the men of power would tell them. Whatever the reason was, Makarov still could not decipher her completely, as if she was an utter mystery to him, and it was... rather intoxicating. _She would kill you in any moment, you fool! _If Zhakaev had been alive, he would definitely say those words to him. The man had been always untrusting to those who were not part of his fold, but for Makarov, her presence proved to rather... beneficial to him in whatever circumstance.

Firstly, she had secured them a route of escape so flawless that he should really thank her properly by not killing her (but then again, the rationale was "should" and not "must"), and it had been a long, long time since he had been with a woman, particularly a woman so beautiful, and who was a professional soldier at that. From the very way she killed that cockroach, he could see that she was highly trained in combat, and if her skills with a knife had been that good, there was no telling what wonders she could achieve with an assault rifle, or two.

Hence, he removed the increasingly uncomfortable silence between them, the best way he knew how. Pressing his lips against hers, he leaned her onto the old sofa, tangling his fingers in her soft, golden hair. "Makarov..." she murmured between kisses, her voice filled with four parts of utter shock three parts of fear, two parts of disbelief, and one part, starting to warm up to him. He took the advantage of her parted lips and slowly snaked his tongue through her white teeth, tasting her delectable sweetness. Good God, he really had not been with a woman for too damn long...

"Shh..." he silenced her, glancing at the doors around them. The walls of the apartment were rather thin, and there would be no doubt that the others would hear them if they had not been careful. But before long, he was soon kissing her hungrily again, wanting more and more of her as the seconds turned into minutes. The very sight of her, seemed to inflame his very being, never mind the fact that they were supposed to kill one another. Perhaps it was this very dark notion that even brought the two of them there in the first place...

Before long, she had somehow gotten on top of him, and straddled either side of him. There was that smile of hers again, the smile that drove him crazy, with a slight hint of seduction. With her deft fingers, she quickly shrugged off his jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt just as quickly, revealing his sculpted torso. "Someone has been taking care of himself," she teased, tracing his collarbone with her finger as she started to plant a trail of kisses down his neck, chest and abdomen."No one would even guess that you're in your forties with a body like that."

_And she does her research well_, Makarov mused in his mind, looking into those sapphire-hued eyes with his own heterochromic ones. "I am glad that it pleases you, my dear," he replied, pulling her down to ravage her lips, which were already slightly bruised. Their tongues met, dancing between their mouths in a primordial routine, of life, and of death, or rather, the death of the other. Perhaps she was not a typical American, after all. Slowly moving his arms around her waist, he slipped off her blouse, revealing the red lace lingerie that she was wearing, and those ample mounds of heavenly flesh that they held within them. "You are not so far off yourself," he whispered into her ear, whilst he cupped one of her breasts with one hand, moving the other down the curve of her back.

Within mere seconds, she was once again beneath him, but he would not continue their passions there... It would be too obvious, and he did not want to answer any prying questions the morning after. There was only one thing to do, and that was to pick her up in his arms, and carry her bridal-style into the room that he had claimed for himself. In this case, it would be the one with less vermin scurrying about. After rather violently kicking the door shut, he pinned her against the wall, and started to lick the valley of her cleavage rather slowly, earning a small moan from "Anya", or whoever she was, even having the audacity enough to catch her hardened nipple from the fabric of her bra, nibbling it ever so softly before he removed that infernal piece of clothing from his sight.

"Beautiful..." he praised, licking her earlobe before taking the same nipple into his mouth, sucking it until she cried out his name. Oh yes, he knew that she was loving every single moment of it... He could feel her pressing her own body against his, until every single convexity and concavity had been molded into his own. "How is it that one as beautiful as you would walk such a dark path?" he asked her just before he gave the other nipple the same treatment of the first, eliciting a mewl as a reward.

"You would not want to know," she replied, bringing a leg around his waist as he kissed his way up her neck, right to her temples, and back down again. In the actual truth, he really, really, would not want to know that she was supposed to kill him... For a moment there, he cocked an eyebrow at her, questioning the answer she had given him, but she paid him no heed, and raised her head for another kiss, which he readily granted, while they quickly aided the other to remove the remaining barriers of clothing from each other.

For a moment there, she saw his erect manhood, and blushed a little, causing him to chuckle. "Anya, we've just only met and look what have you done to me," Makarov chided teasingly, grasping her wrist in his hand, leading her to his shaft. She had been coyly hesitant at first, biting her lower lip as she slowly began to caress his length with her long fingers. "More..." he growled, and she duly obeyed. Enveloping his girth in her hand, she traversed up and down, drawing more than just a few deep groans from him. Smiling seductively, she knelt before him and started to lick every inch of him, bringing him closer into ecstasy.

However, just as she was about to continue, he stopped her, pulling her head up to kiss her yet again, moaning as he had tasted himself on her. "Have I not pleased you?" she asked, hurt slightly lacing her voice. He said nothing, and nibbled her shoulder, forcing her onto the wall yet another time.

"On the contrary, my dear," he told her, making sure that both her legs were around his waist. "You have pleased me greatly..." With those words, he thrust himself into her, filling her instantly as she howled in pleasure, arching into him, clinging onto every fiber of his being. She knew that this was not supposed to be happening... but to hell with it. She had never been with a man of such passion, hunger and desire, and she was enjoying every single moment of it.

What followed later, was something carnal, something that had happened out of nowhere, but came from deep within them. Forgotten were their identities, Vladimir Makarov, the Ultranationalist extremist, and the CIA agent sent to leak information about him back into the US, as well as to assassinate him with any given chance, gone were the prey and the predator, however they both saw one another. What was left, was only a man, and a woman, together as one, in the course that Nature had intended for them.

Makarov thrust into her one last time before coming undone, feeling the very walls of her womanhood clamping against his very being, grunting his pleasure as he continued to hold her with her back against the wall. "Stay with me for the night," he rasped into the part where her neck and her shoulder joined, nibbling on the fragile part of skin, leaving a small mark in its wake.

She smiled, and nodded, kissing him one last time before he withdrew himself from her depths. With that, he brought her onto his bed, and slept with her head rested on his chest, her strands of silk-like golden hair spilling all over like a halo of light. "You really are beautiful," he told her, and kissed her temple. _Too bad that I'll have to kill you_, he thought. To find a woman like her would be trying to find a rare and elusive jewel, and as cliched as it sounded, he would be hard put to forget this encounter.

* * *

"Get in," Anatoly told Makarov, "Anya" and Viktor, opening the doors to the ambulance, while he helped store their weapons. "You have sent a strong message, Makarov."

Makarov shook his head. This woman was indeed as fiery in life as she had been in bed. Whoever she was, she did not even flinch as she gunned down the many civilians before her, not even batting a single eyelash... Her resolve to take him down as admirable, to say the least, and it was really worthy of praise. However, he knew that he could ever risk his chance of vengeance, just because of one night with one woman. "That was no message," he said to his accomplice. Quickly pulling her into his arms, he kissed her fully before she had a chance to speak. "Goodbye," he whispered, words that only she could hear...

"Anya"'s eyes widened... What she saw later was Makarov holding his pistol towards her, and the feeling of being shot, right in the chest... "You..." she murmured as she started to slump into a heap right there, as was still holding her... With her last few breaths, she saw him close his green and blue eyes, and placed her gently on the ground as the FSB started to close in around them.

"This... is a message... Even if she was so beautiful, the American thought that she could deceive us. When they find that body, all of Russia will cry for war..."

His voice was soft, tender even, as though he really meant them, and those were the very last words that she could hear. After that, she could not feel him pressing his lips on her forehead on last time, nor could she see him getting away in the ambulance, but she knew one thing... There was only one way that he could have known that she was an American agent...

She had been betrayed.


	3. Remembrances

_The beeping of an alarm clock immediately caused her to bolt awake. Wait a minute, this certainly was not Fire Base Phoenix in Afghanistan, which was practically her second home... She was in a rather dilapidated room, with paint scraping off the walls, and ants running up and down the crevices. _ Her clothes, they were scattered all about the room, along with that of a man's...

_It took the pull of a pair of powerful arms around her waist to remember where she was._ _She was with Vladimir Makarov, leader of the Ultranationalist terrorists, in his hideout in Moscow before he would attack Zakhaev International Airport. Now, of all times, would be a perfect time to kill him, but her orders were to gain his trust in any way necessary... _

"_Good morning," he said lazily into her ear, kissing her bare shoulder before moving to her jawline. She smiled, and turned towards him, returning the greeting in a similar manner, causing his lips to form into a rather seductive smirk as he quickly leant her back onto the bed. They had only known each other for less than a full day, and already, she knew what he was about to do._

_Burrowing her fingers into his dark hair, she closed her sapphire eyes, allowing him access to her breasts, where he greedily took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it just as he had done the night previous. "Makarov... someone might see us, this time," she warned him, but sounded to him as a warbled mix between a content purr and a highly seductive moan. _

_The Russian said nothing, and continued his conquest of the beautiful creature in his arms, right until they heard a knock on the door. With a small squeak-like sound, she ducked below the covers to hide her very, very naked body, while Makarov just put his arm around her shoulder and bellowed at the door, "We're already awake." He chuckled, upon seeing her face starting to get redder and redder by the moment. "Do not worry, Anya, they will be discreet," he told her. Whether or not the last night's events had been totally intentional, or had been due to a genuine spark between them, being discovered that she had been sleeping with him by his associates garnered an almost natural reaction._

"_Anya"... He had called that name so many times last night; as though it was the only name that he had known... So far, she had not seen anything within him that portrayed him as a ruthless, bloodthirsty terrorist. True, this attack would cause hundreds, perhaps thousands of casualties, but still, it was the work of a mastermind...

* * *

_

"You need to use everything you've got to gain his trust, everything you have..."

* * *

_So, was this why she was in his arms, leaning on his chest, __listening to the steady heartbeat... Wait, he actually had a heart, wow... _

"_Are you afraid?" he asked her, combing his fingers through her long, gold hair. She looked into his heterochromic eyes and shook her head. She was a soldier, she was used to seeing, and causing death. The only difference would be that she would be killing innocents this time, and that her life would be at stake if he ever found out__ that she was an American agent... Yet, she was still as she always had been, feeling completely nothing, but the need to complete the mission._

_Smiling, she shook her head, casting a soft, sideways glance towards him. There was that infernal smile again... Makarov swore that if she did it one more time, he would... "Are you?" she asked him in return. She did not receive an answer, strangely. Vladimir Makarov, afraid of death? She never heard that before. "You don't have anything to worry about, you know," she added, still looking into his eyes. "You're Vladimir Makarov, you've given so ma__ny governments such a hard time, you should be able to get through this just fine..."_

_Makarov cocked an eyebrow at her, and kissed her fully on the lips. "You, my dear, will be the death of me," he whispered.

* * *

_

"You don't wanna know what it cost to put you next to him; it will cost you a piece of yourself... It will cost nothing compared to what you'll save..."

* * *

Shepherd... That bastard not only betrayed her. He betrayed her country... He had taken her out of the ranks of her brothers, out of the ranks if the US Army Rangers, a mere pawn in his scheme... She knew that she could not die. She could not die until she was sure that he could never do the same to others again, that true-blooded patriots would not be wasted just because of one man's greed and hatred.

"A woman!" one of the Russians around her exclaimed. He checked all over her body, and retrieved a small little fabric patch. It was her serial number... "She's an American soldier!"

She tried to open her eyes, to move, but to no avail. Pain coursed through her body, and she could not move... Was it the blood loss?

* * *

An eternity passed, and she heard more Russian voices...

"There she is!"

"Quick, get her to the transport before the FSB notices that we're not one of them!"

"God, how can he shoot one so beautiful?"

Who were they?

It did not matter. She knew what she had to do. She could not die... Not yet... Whoever they were, she knew that they were not part of the FSB, hence, not tied to the government...

"You are safe now," it was the first man who had spoken, after the FSB had moved away to try to identify her. This time, he was speaking in English, albeit it was highly accented. "The bullet missed your vital organs, my dear girl. You are very lucky... Now, you must rest... The doctor says that you will recover in no time."

She opened her sapphire eyes, and found that she was no longer in Zakhaev International Airport. She was in some kind of hospital, the smell of disinfectant filling her nostrils. "Who are you?" she managed to ask, although she did not know what language she was speaking in.

"I am Sergeant Kamarov," the man replied. "I am the leader of the last vestiges of the Loyalist movement."

A Loyalist... then perhaps, he was right, she would be safe, for a little while... "Thank you..." she murmured, before she realized that he had inserted a needled syringe into her forearm, and emptied the contents into her bloodstream. Within mere seconds, her eyelids felt heavy, and she was once again, deep asleep.

* * *

_The airport was as busy as ever, and it should be, as it had quickly become one of the busiest airports in the world. A few years ago, just after Makarov had painted Imran Zakhaev as a martyr to __Russia, Boris Vorshevsky had built this airport and named it after the "Hero of New Russia", and the polls were immediately in the favor of the Ultranationalists, a highly calculated move... True, the Ultranationalists' own army was dwindling, but the Russian army was as strong as ever, mainly because now the Ultranationalists controlled Russia from the bottom up, it did not matter where those who were able to bear arms for their country enlisted in._

_However, even now, the Ultranationalists had not changed in their old ways. They were still terrorists with a political front, it was just that the political front was now larger than its terrorist movement, a clever move decided by Makarov. He had made the world think that he had been feuding with his former comrades, when it was he himself who had calculated every single move that they had made.__ By placing Vorshevsky on the top job, it freed him to do what he had needed and wanted to do, while the latter could cover up any of his more obvious trails... He did not need that kind of power, just the kind that ensured that he got what he needed: vengeance..._

_And that day, he would be taking the first step towards it... Just as they entered the elevator, they quickly wore their Kevlar vests over their business suits, while "Anya" took hers off, revealing a customized Kevlar body-suit that had been specially customized for her._

_They shared a glance, and she smiled as she armed the M4A1 in her hands. Deep inside, she was highly disturbed. They were using American weapons... But why? What would he achieve from doing such a thing? Still, she knew that it was too late to panic now. She had a goal to achieve._

_When the elevator stopped, they had arrived at the departure hall. "Remember, no Russian," Makarov warned them, and they all nodded in understanding. They were to speak in English throughout the operation... what the hell did that mean?_

_The doors opened, and the five people exited the elevator, with their weapons in plain view to the civilians getting through their security checks through several metal detectors. A grim silence fell onto the entire place as they watched them walk away from the elevator, calmly, and slowly, forming a line. _

_And then, it started._

_Continuous streams of bullets from various NATO weapons were fired on each and every one of them, killing dozens instantly, sending the rest of the airport into chaos. The first reaction of those closest to them, had been to run forwards, up the stairs into the waiting halls and the outlets there to hide... A fatal decision that would only end in tragedy._

_They walked slowly, firing at anyone that passed them by. She knew that there was no way to save them, only to shoot them down faster, so that their pain would not be lengthened. Theirs was a sacrifice needed to take down a monster like Makarov, who did not even flinch at what he had done. She, on the other hand, should receive the award for the best actress the next time the Oscars were around... On the verge of tears in her very soul, her expression remained the same to the rest of the world, and more importantly, to Makarov. _

"_Up the stairs, go," he instructed, and they obeyed. There, they were met with more than just innocent civilians running for their lives, but a portion of the police force as well, but no matter what, all of them were dealt with death. She could see the more heroic ones pulling the wounded with them, only to be shot as well... No one was spared. No one._

_Each of them, besides Makarov, went into the many shops and restaurants, funneling out those that were hiding there into the center walkway, where he would kill them all. She had personally killed all those hiding in the fast food outlet, and saw Makarov changing his weapon into a Thumper, a sleek, light grenade launcher with incredible power._

_They soon came to yet another set of escalators and stairs, which they descended, and into another portion of the departure hall. From the corner of her eye, she could see the irony of the notice boards changing into "delayed" for every flight... It was not as if anyone would need to know about that. The passengers, they were all dead, their corpses strewn across the marble floor. It was carnage on a different level. _

_Sirens could be heard, helicopters, the screeching of tires... They came to a room that would lead them directly to the runway, just as they had studied the night before, and it was there that they began reloading. "They're right on time," Makarov announced as their opponents arrived, a various mix of government agents. They did not know that all of this had been planned... "Check your weapons and ammo."_

"_I've waited a long time for this," Viktor said, reloading his weapons. _

_Makarov let out only a bitter chuckle. "Haven't we all?" he replied, and pushed them onwards. Kicking open the door ahead of them, they reached a service area, and advanced onto the tarmac. His men went ahead, and Anya behind them. Quietly, he held her hand for a few seconds, and they shared a quick smile before she too, ran towards the runways. "For Zakhaev," he told them, and more importantly, himself._

_She could see them clearly. Armed personnel with riot shields, a rather huge number of them at that... She knew that not all of them would make it that day. She had to be one that survived the operation. "FSB, take them out," Makarov's voice could be heard again, not only on the tarmac, but also on the second floor._

_But they were no match for them. Makarov, being the strategist that he was, had already anticipated their movements. Moving from cover to cover, they quickly picked off the FSB units that stood before them, taking advantage of the burning plane engines and vehicles around them, as well flashbangs and the rest of their arsenal. _

_Soon, only she, Viktor and Makarov were left. Kiril and Lev had died, due to their own stupidity and need for useless bravado. "30 seconds, go!" Makarov ordered, when the area was currently cleared of the FSB. They ran into yet another service tunnel, and came right to an ambulance. "Hold your fire," he said, holding up his palm, waiting for something to happen..._

_Anatoly opened the doors to the ambulance.

* * *

_

When she opened her eyes again, Kamarov was no longer there. But she knew that she could not stay there for long, she would endanger the Loyalists... They were already a dying cause...

Forcing herself to get out of the bed, she changed into the clothes left for her on the chair and opened the door to the room as quietly as possible. However, just as she thought that her "escape" was sealed, she was faced with the barrel of an AKS-74U.

"Just where are you going, girl?

* * *

HAN: Alright, this chapter still focuses on "Anya", well, because there is still a need to depict the No Russian scene, and to put a little Makarov/"Anya" steaminess. ^.^ The next mission would be the Task Force 141's time to take the scene.


	4. Awakening

Kamarov looked at the woman before him, little more than a girl. Her sapphire eyes glowing in disbelief as he held his assault rifle before her. She was unarmed, and had barely recovered from her injuries, but he could see from the shock-led defiance in her eyes that she was a born fighter... No wonder her superiors would send her on such a dangerous mission. He knew it well, as a Loyalist, that being an agent in the Ultranationalist ranks would be a daunting task, especially mentally, and yet, she was sent to gain the trust of an Ultranationalist no less than Vladimir Makarov, she had to be someone highly regarded at that.

"You are not yet well enough to get out of bed, dear girl," he said, lowering his weapon. No doubt, she would be heaving a sigh of relief, even if she did not show it on her face. "Do not worry, I would not save you just to shoot you." After those words, she seemed to relax a little, and took several steps backwards to allow him into the room.

"Thank you," she said softly, placing her sapphire eyes onto the floor before finding the courage to speak again. "How long was I out, sir?" Kamarov's answer was three days... Three days? Russia and America would be at total war by then! She had to leave that place immediately!

However, one thing stayed her thoughts, and her actions: Where was she going to go to? Back to the Task Force 141? Shepherd will kill her upon sight to silence her, or should she stay with the Loyalists? No, they won't be of any help... The only place that she would be safe, and to stop Shepherd from continuing his plans, would be with the very person who shot her in the first place... Makarov...

Kamarov scratched his head, as though he was trying very hard to even comprehend what he would say. "You were unconscious for three days," he told her. "And on the first, we almost lost you... Your recovery is almost miraculous, even the doctors could not understand how you did it." She knew, though. The very moment Makarov shot her, she could see through almost everything. Shepherd had used her as a pawn, he had already struck a deal with Makarov to make the attack on the Zakhaev International Airport look like it had been an American operation. There only be one outcome from this exchange: war... That was why she could not die... She had to avenge herself, and the countless Americans that would have been sent to their deaths just because of Shepherd. She did not know why he would do such a thing, but she knew that it was imperative that she stopped him before he could do more damage to their already falling country.

"I had to stay alive, sir..." she told him. "By now, I think you already know who I am..."

"You are Corporal Maria Allen, from the Task Force 141," Kamarov interjected, "Acting as an undercover CIA agent... I knew your Captain, child." Captain... What Captain? Wait... He said the Task Force 141... It was headed by a Captain? Kamarov saw her confusion, and was became just as clueless as she was. "Am I mistaken?" he asked further. She shook her head, which caused him to raise an eyebrow. She told him that she had only been in the Task Force 141's submarine for about a day, and was then deployed in Russia before she could meet anyone from the Task Force 141.

Maria Allen...

It seemed to be so, so long ago since she was known by that name. In truth, it only had been three days ago... Before she was inducted into the Task Force 141, she had been a US Army Ranger, serving under Sergeant Foley. The 75th Battalion had been her family, other than her own... She had known them ever since she had joined the US Army. "Maria Allen is dead," she said with a small sigh. "Vladimir Makarvo shot her three days ago. She was a casualty of the war that she would start."

"So you know what has transpired then," Kamarov said, combing his fingers on the edges of his beard. "Vorshevsky has thtreatened to attack the United States immediately after you were identified, and this time, the threats are not empty..." Boris Vorshevsky may be the President of the Russian Federation, but the true leader of Russia, was Vladimir Makarov, because Vorshevsky would not dare to take any course of action without Makarov's approval... The whole world, and Russia herself, had been made to think that the latter had split from the inner circles of the Ultranationalists... How wrong they had been. "Will you go back to the 141, or will you return to your own shores to defend your people?"

She will defend her people, alright. But she won't be going back to America. "They would all think that I'm dead right now," she replied. "I need to look for Makarov, he's the only one who can help me."

Makarov? Kamarov was astounded. This young woman was shot by that man, and still, she wanted to find him? How could he even give her aid? It was only then when she told him how she had been betrayed by her superior, who had technically hired Makarov to execute the massacre, that Makarov could well be the only one besides Shepherd who knew what Shepherd would do next. "You could see all this, just by getting shot?" he asked her, a stupid question to ask, but one that he had to ask anyways.

"Sort of," she answered. Call it woman's intuition, or that she had a highly accurate and wild imagination, she could see two or three steps forwards or backwards. It was just something that she had known that she could do since a very young age. The man, Sergeant Kamarov, he seemed to be in deep contemplation as he stood at her bedside, continuing to watch her like a hawk, albeit a rather fatherly one.

"Very well, I send my men to bring you to him," Kamarov said with a large smile.

* * *

"By now, 'Anya' would already be awake," Makarov told Anatoly and Viktor. The three of them were playing chess, the two of them against him. It was not a fair game, but he still won every match. "The FSB could not fully identify her before her body 'disappeared' into thin air, while Shepherd has not contacted us in vehemence. This means that she is in the care of our good friends, the Loyalists." The Loyalists were no longer a threat to them, having lost their popularity following the end of the latest Russian Civil War. They might have won the battle where Imran Zakhaev had been sacrificed, but ultimately, "democracy" won out, and the Ultranationalists gained control of the Kremlin via conventional and their original terrorist ways.

From the way that she had provided them with a better route of escape in the form of the ambulence hidden in the service tunnels, he had known that "Anya" was a woman that in a perfect world, would be trained to be a leader by her superiors. Too bad the world was not perfect, that was why she was sent, literally, to her death by the man she was supposed to trust with her life. "And they will use her against us?" Viktor asked. He and Anatoly had been with Makarov ever since their days in the Frunze Military Academy, but still, it was difficult to decipher what was going on in that head of his.

"No, Viktor," Makarov answered. "She will find her way to us, and their spies in our ranks will show her the way." He smirked when he saw the slight panic on their faces. "Don't worry, they will not be a threat to us, with only a sergeant at their command..." He was not at all concerned with the Loyalists, but with Shepherd. He would be cleaning house once he perceived that they were no longer of use to him, and "Anya" would be the key to send back dissention into Shepherd's men... He already had it all planned out.

"We shall send word down that they're not to attack any vehicle that is not ours without your orders, then," Anatoly remarked, receiving a nod from Makarov, who stood up from the table and moved towards the direction of his room. "Hey, the game is not finished!"

Makarov chuckled wryly. "You have been deceived by a mere pawn..." he said, yawning lazily before ascending the flight of stairs that led to the second story of his safehouse. A mere pawn... _Soon,_ he thought, _I will see you again, my dear, the woman with the burning sapphire eyes._

* * *

Morning, and she was finally given a clean bill of health by the Loyalists' resident medical officer, as well as some other medication to help alleivate whatever other symptoms she might have had. "Thank you so much, Kamarov," she told Kamarov as he walked her towards the helicopter that would fly her directly to Makarov's safehouse, about two hours' flight away from their current location. "I don't even know how to repay you."

"If you stop that traitor-General of yours, you would be helping to save thousands of Americans and Russians, Maria," Kamarov told her. "That is all the thanks that my men and I would need." For the first time, he saw her break into a smile, and he smiled as well. "If I know Makarov, he would turn a blind eye to us this times... It is not our opportunity to strike anyways."

Deep down, she knew that he already knew that there was nothing more that the Loyalists could do for Russia. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you still continuing with your movement?" she asked. She knew that when the Ultranationalists came into power, they massacred the Loyalists by the hundred, leaving only a handful of survivors...

Kamarov laughed heartily at her words. "They said that Pandora left one thing remaining in her box, and it is Hope," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps, it should be known as 'a couple of ragged soldiers still believing that they could make a difference'".

Hope...

It was a dangerous word, and would drive both men and women to the very edge, just for the promise that their wildest dreams would come true. The children of her generation had never been given a chance to see how sweet and how fragrant that word even meant. They had inherited from their parents the heap of the economic recession, when the old coots who caused it retired, and the world turned to their young for "new and innovative ideas." When their ancestors had polluted the Earth and created problems like global warming, it was the children of her generation that fought to give back to Mother Nature...

Perhaps this was why she had enlisted into the US Army, despite her parents' objections. No matter what had happened, no matter what shape the world had been into, the US armed forces would always be the strongest in the world. It was still the strongest army in the world... But not for long. She was the one who caused all of this, due only to a cruel trick of fate. She was of relatively low rank, meaning that she was utterly expendable, and the best thing was, she could speak Russian... And those traits caused had caused her to be the spark that would push two of the world's greatest nations into the fires of war.

"You're right," she told him, just seconds before she headed into the helicopter. "We must have hope..." With that, she gave Kamarov a quick hug and boarded the aircraft, looking towards the Caucasus Mountains. Yes, it was hope that brought her to that time and place.

Throughout the entire time of the flight, she did not talk to the pilot... All that was in her mind, was her current situation. Makarov had left her alive, making look as if he had killed her after exposing her cover... He must have known what she had come to realize... But how?

* * *

Makarov recognized a Loyalist helicopter when he saw one. That poor little thing was so rickety and run-down that he could hear it literally miles away. Well, that was a slight exaggeration, but it was true. That beaten contraption it dared to call itself a Little Bird was better off in a junkyard. He could see it, the glint of her gold hair as it flew over his stately safehouse, which was just something short of a mansion that was armed to the teeth with the latest in the world's weaponry.

The Little Bird landed not far from the safehouse, in an open field, watched over by at least twenty snipers. And as predicted, it flew off the very moment she had disembarked. How very like the Loyalists, to shirk from opportunity, only to fight another day... However, his focus was not on that lone Loyalist pilot, but rather the the one that he had dropped off. There she was, walking right into the line of the snipers' fire. She could see them, there was no doubt about it, because he knew that she herself was a sniper.

Within a few moments, she was standing right before him, her hair blowing in the early winter's winds, sapphire eyes as bright and feral as ever. "Maria," he greeted her, using her real name, which he had known all along. She smiled, that same that had drove him to near insanity, and shook her head. "Anya," he corrected, but this time, did not allow her to react at all. Quickly plunging her into his arms, he kissed her, just as he had done in that run-down apartment unit in the heart of Moscow.

"I must be crazy..." she cursed herself when the kiss broke, slightly leaning her head on his shoulder. "You freaking shot me..."

Makarov held a hand to the back of her head and tipped her chin. "Would you have seen what you already have if I had not done so?" he asked in return, kissing the tip of her nose. She already knew the answer for that question...

Shaking her head, she brought her arms around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body. "No..." she murmured, placing her own lips lightly on his... If she had to sell her soul to the devil that was Vladimir Makarov to stop Shepherd and avenge herself and her country, then so be it...

* * *

HAN: You know what, I think I'm gonna stand my ground on this one, because at the end of the day, it's my fanfic, and I have the right to decide where this thing heads. Besides, I sense that there is much more humanity to Makarov, even if he's regarded as some bloodthirsty psychopath. That's why we're all fanfic authors right? We have our own interpretations to the characters, and I choose to use mine. ^.^ I hope I did not offend anyone though, ahahahha ^.^ Enjoy!


	5. Takedown

Task Force 141 Submarine Base- Location Classified

* * *

Lieutenant-General Shepherd was not pleased at all, by the look on his face. Just as Captain MacTavish and Roach had returned from their mission in Kazakhstan, he had called the entire 141 into the briefing room for a meeting. "Boys, as you might have known, we were supposed to have a new recruit among us, Corporal Maria Allen from the US Army Rangers' 75th Battalion," he announced, displaying Maria's files on the screen. "Sadly, however, Corporal Allen is now dead..."

There were several faces that had been scrunched up in confusion, and even MacTavish crossed his arms. "Allen was deployed into Moscow on a deep cover mission with the CIA: to gain Vladimir Makarov's trust and to feed information about his movements back into the USA. Somehow or other, Makarov knew immediately that she was an American agent." It was common knowledge that Makarov was highly distrustful, even to his own men, so it was not a surprise at all that Maria Allen would be discovered on the spot.

News feeds of the attack on Zakhaev International Airport by Makarov were then showed to the men, in various languages. "So, Makarov used Maria Allen to attack an airport so that he can blame it on the United States?" Roach asked, receiving a nod from Shepherd. "Wow... this is tough shit..."

Still, it does not change the fact that for no matter what reason, an American had gunned down Russian civilians in Russia. Already, the Russian president, Boris Vorshevsky, had once again denounced Makarov as part of the Ultranationalist party, and told the world that the perpetrators of the attack would be taken to justice... War between Russia and America would be highly evident, considering the tensions between both countries. "The Russians ain't gonna let this massacre go unanswered," Ghost said, "It's gonna get bloody."

"Too right mate," MacTavish replied. "Now, in the eyes of the world, they're the victims. No one's gonna say a word when the Russians club every American they can reach." It was the fact; Russia had every single right to start an all-out war with America... He just hoped that he and Roach had recovered the ACS module just in time.

"Makarov was two steps ahead," Shepherd broke in. "Now, he's left thousands of bodies at the feet of an American..."

Still, it changed nothing about their situation. "We were the only ones who knew that it was Makarov's op," MacTavish interjected. "Our credibility died with Maria Allen..." There was nothing they could do, but to show the world that Makarov had been the mastermind behind those horrendously inhumane attacks. "We need proof."

Soon, scans of the used bullets scattered around Allen's body were made, and were then matched to almost every single bullet manufactured on the face of the world. Within mere seconds, the computer had traced the bullet's sources to Rio de Janeiro. "Alejandro Rojas..." Shepherd said, sounding slightly amused, looking at the profiles of two men that came onto the projector.

"Never heard of him, sir," MacTavish said.

"You know him as Alex the Red," Shepherd said. At once, MacTavish gave a nod that signified his comprehension. Alex the Red was a weapon's dealer with large shares in the South American and Asian black markets, no wonder Makarov was one of his clients. "He's the one who supplied the assault..."

MacTavish sighed. "One bullet to unleash the fury of a whole nation," he said, walking about two steps forwards. "Which means..."

"He's our ticket to Makarov."

* * *

From the Caucasus Mountains, Maria Allen, now self-styled as "Anya" had arrived on a plane to Rio de Janeiro, with Anatoly for company and as the one who would extract her from the favela she was heading to. Her mission was to seemingly pay Rojas on the behalf of Makarov, and then silence him when the Task Force 141 came for him.

"Strange, Makarov does not deal with women," Alejandro Rojas said in English, receiving the duffel bag filled with money from her. "You must have done something very, very wrong to catch his attention."

Anya nodded as she shook his hand. "I helped him murder thousands of civilians in the largest airport in Russia," she told him, knowing that he would bring that information to the grave anyways. "Of course he deals with me now." Rojas only looked at her warily, and went on his way. Just as he turned towards the streets of the favela, she said into her earpiece, "He took the money, and I don't think that he suspects anything."

"Good," Makarov's voice rasped into her earpiece. "Rojas is nothing more than a common rat. He will only know that he is in trouble when he is cornered, and he will find any way out possible. With your brothers here, they will take care of sealing his escape."

"I _am_ the designated sniper," she replied, making her way to the upper levels of the favela. In any moment now, the Task Force 141 would be arriving, and she would be ready for them. Anatoly had already tapped into their comms, and when he gave her a thumb up from his helicopter, she put her other earpiece on, hearing every word they had to say clearly.

* * *

Gary Sanderson, or rather, Roach as he was known in the 141, was dead tired. He had just returned from a mission in Kazakhstan, and now, he was deployed in Brazil. Oh yes, there was the Captain as well, but it was common knowledge that MacTavish was some-sort of top secret government experiment to churn out a super-soldier of sorts, or that was what the others thought him to be.

They were following the vehicle of another rival illegal arms organization, who were going to look for Rojas' assistant to threaten him into submission, and it took them a while to be sure that they had been following the right one as well. "Ghost, the plates are a match," MacTavish told Ghost, who was in another vehicle heading to the favela from another route in the city.

"Copy," Ghost replied, "Any sign of Rojas' right hand man?"

MacTavish could only come up with a negative answer. "They've stopped twice already... No sign of him." Just as soon as he had said those words, the vehicle stopped once again. "Wait, they've stopped again, standby..." A black man stepped out of the double doors of the building, meeting the two men in the van in front of them, two men holding guns in their hands, causing the black man to hold his hands up. "I've got a positive ID, whoever these guys are, they're not happy to see 'em."

However, the man now identified as Rojas' assistant did the unthinkable. He pulled out a Desert Eagle and shot the two men before him, along with the man that emerged from the back of the van. "Ghost, we've got a situation here!" MacTavish exclaimed, just before Rojas' assistant saw them and started to fire at them. "Get down, get down!" The bullets hit their driver, an American comrade, but there was nothing to be done about it. Without further ado, MacTavish quickly kicked the car door open and made sure Roach exited the vehicle as well. "He's getting away, Roach, let's go!"

Thus, they started running towards the main streets of Rio de Janeiro. "Ghost, our driver's dead," MacTavish reported to Ghost, "We're on foot! Meet us at the Hotel Rio and cut him off if you can!"

"Roger, I'm on my way!" was the reply from the Lieutenant. Roach, on the other hand, could not care less. He just dodged the many civilians pushing towards him and continued to follow Rojas' assistant as closely as he could. Soon, he could see Ghost, Meat and Royce not far away from them as well. "He went into the alley!"

This was not good. If Rojas' assistant was able to lose them, the mission would be done for. "Non-lethal takedowns only," MacTavish warned. "We need him alive!" In the end, it was Roach that was the one who got ahead of the rest of them. "Roach, take the shot," he said. Doing as he had been told to do, Roach used the ACOG sights on his ACR to shoot a bullet through the man's ankle, felling him instantly. "He's down."

* * *

Anya looked around the favela. Already, the militia were doing a good job of keeping the civilians away from the place. She could just imagine the many fire-fights that would happen in that area in a few moments to come. She did not understand Portuguese, but she knew that from all the activity, the milita could have found out that the Task Force 141 had already captured Rojas' assistant. "I'd imagine that Rojas would be wanting to run to the ends of the earth right now," Makarov said, causing her to smile a little. "Remember, now is not the right time to reveal yourself. Make sure that none of the Task Force 141 sees you."

"Don't worry," she told him, taking up sniper position. From where she was, she could see directly the garage where the five men from the Task Force 141 had pushed the assistant into, ready to "interrogate" him. From what she heard, they were definitely going to torture them... Talk about ignoring the Geneva Conventions. But if she remembered correctly, they were immune to every single written law in warfare during their missions, because they were considered as highly specialized biological weapons in the field, which was the reason why they used callsigns, and not their real names. Shepherd threw that information to her just as a juicy tidbit, she supposed, but she could definitely pick up that there were men known as "Royce", "Meat", "Ghost", "Roach", and the Captain right there in Rio.

"I will await your good news," Makarov said. He was smiling, she could tell from the tone of his voice. "I trust that this mission would be a fruitful one."

* * *

"Roach, this is going to take some time," MacTavish told Roach, the youngest and least experienced of the team. "Go with Meat and Royce and check the favela for any sign of Rojas- That's where this guy is headed."

Roach nodded, and went with the two men the Captain had indicated. They passed the a few dumpsters, and then a broken fence... Jumping down about six feet, they reached the outskirts of the favela, in a rather small field, where a few civilian children had been playing, under the watchful eyes of their parents. "Be careful, there are civilians in the favela," Royce reminded his teammates. "Meat, get these civvies out of there," he told Meat, who shot a few rounds into the air, shouting in Portuguese.

And then, it began. The militia started to pour into their view, on the rooftops, on the streets themselves. "They're coming!" Roach warned. They were not just one or two men with guns, not like how the favela gangsters had been. They were now organized fighters, although they still needed a little more training.

"Bravo Six, be advised," Royce reported to MacTavish. "We've engaged enemy militia at the lower village!" He then turned towards Roach, who was already making his way into the favela. "Roach, I'm with you! Watch the rooftops, go!"

* * *

Anya looked at the three 141 combatants that were pushing through the favela... She knew that by that time, Rojas was already deeply covered in the favela, and there was no way that she could find him again by herself. The favela of Rocinha housed a quarter of a million people, located in the south of the city of Rio de Janeiro... It would be literally like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

However, she knew that she could not risk exposing her cover. "I'm sorry," she whispered, hoping that the men that she would be about to kill would forgive her. Their sacrifice would be valued, like those that had died in Zakhaev International Airport. With that, she took aim with her Barett .50 cal and shot Meat through the head.

"Meat is down!" Royce shouted. There was nothing to help him... Roach was too far away from him and Meat's now-dead body. Within mere seconds, Royce's words could be heard over the comms again. "Roach, I'm hit!" Those were his dying words. This man had been shot through the stomach, and would die of blood-loss quickly.

Roach would be the one who would lead her to Rojas, along with his other two surviving comrades... "It's your call, Roach," she said, more to herself than to Roach.

* * *

Roach was not happy. He was all alone in a favela filled with bloodthirsty militants, and they were all alerted of his presence. Just then, he heard the voice of his Captain through his earpiece. "Roach, we've got Rojas' location!" Those words immediately filled him with hope. "He's heading west to the upper levels of the favela, we'll keep him from doubling over from our side... Keep going and cut him off at the top!" Oh, and there was a last warning as well. "There's no time for backup, you're gonna have to do this on yourself. Good luck, out."

Great. He was truly all alone. Still, that did not deter him from going forward. As he took a flight of stairs, he heard the loud barking of a dog the size of a wolf, which he quickly shot down, but was then interrupted by someone shooting at him from behind a dumpster. Quickly, he turned and killed the man, only to be faced with several other gunmen on the roofs, and another dog...

"All in a day's work," he muttered to himself, and continued to kill them all before they could kill him.

"Roach, this is their terrority, and they know it well," MacTavish advised. "Keep an eye open for ambush positions, and check your corners!"

* * *

She could see the other two coming from the east of the favela... The Captain and his second in command... She had strict orders from Makarov that they were not to be touched at all. Her sapphire eye were still kept trained on the 141 members on the either side of the favela. In a perfect world, she would be with them, looking for Rojas as well... She rolled her eyes, at the sheer irony of that fact. She still had the emblem of the Task Force 141 with her in her pocket, with her name under the image of the winged skull and a sword thrust through it...

"Roach, watch the rooftops!" MacTavish instructed. Her eyes flashed, was he talking about her? "We've had a few close calls with RPGs and machine guns positioned up high!" Good... They were not talking about her... "Roach, we're taking heavy fire from the militia here, but I'm still tracking Rojas, Ghost, do you see him?"

This was Anya's cue to leave her current position as well. She kept on listening to the comms of the 141, following their movements. The militia would not be bothered with her, a woman dressed as a tourist, running from rooftop to rooftop in hot pursuit of something that they could not even see. Her sapphire eyes, they could see Rojas, but the man in the balaclava with the skull-shaped image, he was right on her tail.

Taking the M4A1 in her hand, she rained bullets in that man's direction, forcing him to take another direction. "I'm taking heavy fire from the militia," he told his teammates. "I don't think that I can track him through the market, I'll have to find another way around!"

"Anya, let them lead you to Rojas," Makarov told her.

"I'm already on it," she replied, running towards Rojas' location parallel to that of the Captain's direction, using the clotheslines to camouflage herself. She delivered a shot to his arm, but missed due to the fact that they were both running as fast as humanly possible. "Anything else I need to do?" she asked him, slightly annoyed at her failed shot.

Makarov chuckled. "Make sure that Rojas does not reveal too... much information, " he answered.

* * *

Roach was now at the summit of the favela. "Ghost, I'm going far right," MacTavish told Ghost, who was three stories down below him.

"He's gonna get away!" Ghost shouted, almost in despair.

"No, he's not..." With those words, MacTavish crashed out of the window, and tackled Rojas onto the car below.

* * *

Anya watched on as the members of the 141 tortured Rojas, desperate for any shred on information on Makarov... "I... overheard him..." Rojas said in the end. "Makarov... hates more... Gulag... Prisoner 627..."

With those words, she placed a shot into his skull. "He's dead," she told Makarov. "I want a hot bath when I get back there..."


	6. Rest

"You left her alive?" Boris Vorshevsky was oblivious. When the FSB reported that they could not find Maria Allen's body, he had thought that the Americans had retrieved. Never did he ever imagine that the Loyalists would find her, and return her right to Makarov... "And you knew that there are Loyalists in our faction?"

Makarov sighed. "Boris, our army is at about one million strong," he told his old comrade. "And, the Loyalists have only a few thousand, they can never be a full threat to us. Shepherd, on the other hand, can." Oh, he knew about Shepherd, the general of the US army that had lost 30,000 men in a single day five years ago. He had been the one who passed Zakhaev's approval to Khaled al-Asad to even deploy that nuclear warhead. In the corner of his mind, he wondered if Anya had been among those 30,000 Marines, but then, he remembered that she would only be 17 at that time... it was highly impossible. He had seen her files before, she was a graduate soldier hailing from a prestigeous university...

Vorshevsky sighed. "What are you planning to do with her?" he asked Makarov, his voice clearly tired from all the scheming and the plotting done. The entire Russian army was mobilized, ready to attack the United States with any single notice that they would have.

"I intend to send her back as an double agent," Makarov answered plainly, as though it was the most evident thing ever. "Right now, Anya burns with only rage and revenge, and she will not pass that opportunity. Already, she has proven her prowess by disposing at that bedraggled rodent, Rojas." She was highly intelligent, that she had already proven, and resilient to the point of resembling a hardened diamond... Even before she had discovered Shepherd's plans, her sapphire eyes had already burned with a brilliant fire embedded deep in her soul, and now, that white flame only burned brighter and hotter, laced with the need for vangeance, fueled by rage... She projected an image of calmness, of innocent youth, but he knew what was in her, because she was just like him in his younger days...

"I do not doubt you, Vadlimir, but you know that you alone can take care of Shepherd in your own ways," Vorshevsky replied. "Why is there even need for the girl?"

That question was the one that Makarov could not answer without some deep thinking. Come to think of it... Why did he even leave her alive? While Vorshevsky was not a strategist, this man could see through the hearts of others, and that was why that he felt uneasy, even if Makarov so willingly gave up the post of the President of the Russian Federation, preferring to stay in the background as some loose-cannon terrorist... He did not even know why he spent a night with her, however passionate it had been. If he had to be dead honest to himself, he would say that the answer is simple: he had to see her again, but no one, not even Anya herself could know. "With her as a double agent, she will plant distrust into the ranks of the 141 to their leader, and when they free Prisoner 627, they will even distrust him more..."

On a separate computer was the profile of one Captain John MacTavish. This man was one of Prisoner 627's team members, deployed on the very same missions that 627 had been on. His record was seemingly clean, but it could not explain how a mere sergeant was able to advance through the ranks so quickly that he was a Captain in the span of five years... This man had been the first and foremost candidate to head the field operations of the Task Force 141. If there was any person who would follow 627 to the end, it would be this man. There would be no mistake about it. "And so, when they know that she is alive, they will find out that they had been betrayed by the man that they have so trusted... I can imagine that pain."

Vorshevsky gave him a wry laugh, although his slightly nervous expression could be clearly seen on the computer screen. "Very well, then," he said. "And when would you want to decimate the United States, my friend?"'

"Any time that you wish. I will deal with Shepherd."

* * *

About half a day later, Anya had returned with Anatoly, the former, visibly tired. She should be. In 24 hours of returning to the world of the living, she had been halfway across the world and back, he should never have asked so much of her, but still, she greetd him with a smile. "Your bath is ready," Makarov told her, taking her hand in his as she descended the helicopter. Her sapphire eyes, they were slightly glazed from the fatigue that she was probably feeling, although she tried to hide it. Without further ado, he carried her into his arms, before nodding to Anatoly, wordlessly instructing the man to take her things from the vehicle that they had returned in.

Like the previous night, he brought her to his room, and was about to close the door to give her some privacy when she jumped after him just before his hand touched the door-knob. "Stay with me," she pleaded him softly. Nodding, he went back into the room, and enveloped her in his arms. It was not long before he felt drops of liquid seep through his clothes from where she had buried her head in... Was she crying? "I'm sorry..." she told him, noticing his surprise, pearl-like teardrops still dropping from her sapphire eyes. "I just..."

Makarov did not give her any chance to explain. Backing her onto the door, he placed his hands to either side of her head and leaned inwards to kiss her, silencing her mid-sentence. She kissed him back, tentatively at first, unsure of how to react, but he remained gentle, and when the kiss broke, he kissed her forehead before resting his hand on her cheek, wiping of her tears with his thumb. "Shh..." he hushed her. She was a warrior, but she was still human... He did not ask her why she was crying, he did not need to. "I'm here..."

In some macabre and strange way, his words brought her comfort. "Thanks," she murmured, breaking into a bittersweet smile. "I don't know what got over me..." Makarov said nothing, but put his finger on her lips, stopping her from speaking once again.

"All of us have our own times of weakness," he told her softly. "Now come, your bath is getting cold..."

* * *

"Uh, Captain, you have a call from Russia," a 141 soldier told MacTavish just as he and what remained of his team had been debriefed by Shepherd. By then, Russia had already unleashed its fury on the United States, and launched an attack on its east coast. Russia? Who the hell would contact him all the way from Russia?

MacTavish nodded, and pushed a key on the computer he was using. "Kamarov?" he asked. This man had been an old friend of his, well, considering the length of his career.

"Good to see you again, Soap," Kamarov replied. "Listen, are you alone?" he asked, as though it was the most important thing on the world. He looked around and nodded, allowing Kamarov to let out a sigh of relief. "There is something that you must know. Boris Vorshevsky has deceived the world..."

Boris Vorshevsky? Wasn't he the President of Russia? "Kamarov, can you please speak English?" MacTavish demanded.

"Maria Allen, she is not dead," Kamarov said slowly, causing MacTavish to spit out his coffee. "That is all that I can tell you, my friend."

* * *

"You want me to do... what?" Anya asked Makarov, leaning against his body as the two of them were fully soaked in water in the tub. Somehow or other, she managed to get him to join her, much to his chagrin... But it did not matter, now that she thought that he had asked her to reunite with the members of the Task Force 141... However, she did not need him to tell her what would happen if she would help them to free this Prisoner 627... "You want me to turn them against Shepherd, don't you?" she asked him, turning towards him.

Makarov smiled and kissed her forehead. "Intelligent as always," he praised. "With Maria Allen alive, it is a miracle to them... And when you tell them that Shepherd is a traitor, doubled with the fact that Prisoner 627 will never easily trust anyone ever again... They will be ripped apart from within."

"There's a special place in hell for me, I just know it," she told him, her sapphire eyes flashing mischievously. With that, she resumed her original position, leaning her head on his shoulders. She felt him chuckle, going on to nibble on her shoulder ever so lightly. "Have you ever thought of the possbility that I might not come back?" she asked him, earning an almost animalistic bite to her shoulder. Slightly wincing, she gathered an arm around his head and said, "I mean, what if I rejoined the 141?"

At those words Makarov relaxed a little, and caressed her toned thigh. "You can't," he whispered into her ear, licking her earlobe as well. "Just like how I can't kill you..."

She fell silent. Her sapphire eyes were turned towards his heterochromic eyes again, and she cupped his face with her hands, which were slightly smaller than his own. "I thought that you were just using me, with a little bit more on the sides," she told him, looking a slight bit confused. He would not blame her though, because it had been one of the reasons why he had left her alive, no matter how hare-brained they would seem.

"Anya..." Makarov chided gently, and began to pepper slight kisses all over her face, but said nothing more on the matter. She had been partially right, though, only partially. There was a genuine spark of attraction between the two of them, that none of them that could deny, and she had not taken it into account. Yet, she had thrown caution to the wind, and willingly agreed to work with him to take Shepherd down... Her bravery had to be commended, at any rate.

"You know what?" she asked him, breaking the silence. "I'm freezing right now." With those words, she pried herself away from his arms, she took the towel from the rack and wrapped it around her naked body before exiting the bathroom, casting him a smile that caused him immediately to get out of the bathtub and follow her. She might have moved quickly, but he was faster. Within mere seconds, she was held onto the wall of his bedroom, her legs around his waist, golden strands of wet hair plastered onto her neck. "You're not helping at all," she told him in mock annoyance. "But... this seems familiar, somehow..."

A smirk graced his handsome features. "It does," he replied, and moved her from the wall, and tipped her over, bracing himself as she screamed in fear of him dropping her. "Now this, is better..." The view of her entire torso was before him, one that he had highly appreciated.

"I'll really kill you if you dare to try anything, Vladimir Makarov," she threatened, gritting her teeth before he kissed her hungrily, sending little jolts of electricity all over her body.

"And I will see you try, my dear," Makarov whispered. She was even more beautiful when she was angry, or seemingly so. However, just as she thought that he would continue to torture her sweetly, he gathered her back into his arms and laid her on the bed with a slight smile. "I know that you're tired," he told her. "Sleep... You'll need plenty of it." From her sapphire eyes, he could see that she was almost on the verge of defying him, but before she could do anything, she yawned and was asleep in his arms within seconds, her head resting on his chest.

And while she slept in the arms of the enemy, her own countrymen were fighting off the invading Russians... Makarov could only roll his eyes the irony, and ensure that for the slightest time, she would not have to face it, not until she absolutely had to...

* * *

HAN: Review if you love some Makarov hotness! ^.^ Thanks to ecto1B for the fave! ^.^


	7. Comfort

She could not die... She could not die...

The lives that she had taken, the men, women and even children that she killed... It was a sacrifice that she had to make. A sacrifice that they had to give... Makarov was a terrorist that had to be taken down, they were the sacrifice, she had to sacrifice her very own soul, to stop his reign of terror.

She would save many, many lives if she did so.

* * *

"Maria, we're so proud of you! An Army Ranger in our family... Who could have imagined?"

"Hmph... She's wasting her degree!"

"Howard, it's what your daughter wants, if she's happy, then let her be!"

Those were her parents, on the day that the acceptance letter came. She was now a US Army Ranger, assigned to the 75th Battalion. Her sapphire eyes were filled with confusion then... Was it a good thing, or a bad thing? It was the only place where she could find hope... Why couldn't her father see that she would be making a difference?

* * *

"Men, we have a new recruit, meet Maria Allen."

"She's a freaking girl!"

"I bet you that she's very hot underneath that uniform."

She was now an Army Ranger... It was her first day on the force. She had been the proverbial FNG, and like the rest of her team, she was based in Fire Base Phoenix, in Afghanistan. She was trained to be a sniper, and in the end, she turned out to be best among those in the Rangers.

She had only been a Ranger for a year, but she was already a Corporal, having gone through officer training, and having showing her prowess, and she caught the eye of the general that headed their force... After defeating the Pit in less than half a minute, she was assigned to the "prima donna squad"...

The Task Force 141...

She killed two men from the Task Force 141. Meat and Royce. She had fired at the Captain, and the Lieutenant...

* * *

"Remember, no Russian..."

"Anya..."

"We are all human..."

Makarov... Everything happened because of him. Why was she with him? Why was she even working with him? There had to be other ways... There just had to.

* * *

"Traitor!"

That was Dunn. Her best friend in the Rangers.

"You were supposed to leak information back to us, not fall in love with him!"

Fall in love? Was she in love with him?

"You have betrayed the United States of America!" That was Foley, her CO...

_No... Shepherd betrayed you, not me!_

"Maria... Our daughter's name is Maria, not Anya."

_I am Maria... I'm still Maria!_

"_Maria Allen is dead... I'm Anya now..."

* * *

_

She could hear only voices, but not the faces of those who spoke them. In her mind's eye, she could see all of them... Her parents, Shepherd, her friends, Makarov... She could see all of them, and the expressions on their faces. She could see the people that she had killed, innocents, militants, Ultranationalists... She could see all of them.

Every single emotion, every single feeling...

She opened her sapphire eyes, and bolted up from the bed. She could feel the cold sweat running down her back... "Anya... Anya..." It was Makarov... His arms were around her, his head resting on the crook of her neck... He was telling her something... The warmth of his body, somehow, it comforted her.

"My name is Maria..." she murmured. It was as loud as thunder in her mind, but to Makarov, it was merely an inaudible whisper. "My name is Maria..." It always had been Maria... Since when did she change her name?

Makarov held her in his arms, right until her breathing and her heart rate returned to normal. "It's only a nightmare," he told her, turning her towards him to kiss her forehead. "You are safe with me."

Whoever she was, she did not struggle, and allowed him to press his lips against hers, in a chaste, reassuring kiss, tears streaming down her sapphire eyes. "I have to kill him..." she murmured against the skin of the base of his neck. If she did not do so, she would have more nightmares like this, she was sure of it...

"And you will, my dear," Makarov replied, leading her back onto the bed. "But now, you must rest." She had been through hell and back, he should have known that the stress would be too great for her to handle in such a short time... However, he had seen how resilient she was, and he knew that this would be nothing in the long run.

She, on the other hand, knew that she would not be able to keep up this ruse... One day, sooner or later, she would break, and she did not know what could happen then.

"Would you care to tell me what you saw?" Makarov asked her, causing her to jump a little. There was genuine concern, in both his eyes, the green and the blue, as well as in the tone of his voice. She looked at him and hesitated for a moment, before looking away.

"I can't," she replied, her voice slightly breaking. She knew it; she was not as strong as she would think herself to be, not as strong as he had given her credit for. His fingers guided her sapphire gaze back to his own, and she knew that he was trying to figure out what was wrong with her, what she was feeling. "Don't worry, I would not jeopardize your plans," she reassured him.

At those words, Makarov kissed her deeply, silencing her. He knew that this was not the fiery woman he knew that was talking to him, it was the result of all her emotions that she had kept deep within her exploding in one go. Ever since she had arrived by his side, she had only allowed herself to truly feel, and the conflict deep within her was aroused.

"I have the utmost confidence in you," he whispered into her hair, his fingers entangled in her golden strands of hair. Now, there was the tricky part. He had always convinced himself that she would be a valuable ally, because of her skills and talents, but now that he had seen that she was internally torn apart, he still believed in her. What did that even mean?

It did not matter. Come to think of it, since when did he ever take a course of action when it put him at a high disadvantage? Whether or not he was feeling anything for her, he already knew that he would be able to secure her talents for his own advances. One moment of weakness, was not enough proof for him that she was no longer a reliable form of expendable aid to him...

Whether or not she was Anya, or Maria, it did not matter. She was still a soldier, highly trained, capable of anticipating and retracing the steps of others. "You have not cheated death to falter from your goals now," he added, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I know you won't."

She did not reply, she did not say anything. She only returned his kiss, and wrapped her arms around his neck. This time, the kiss seemed to last forever, continuing on and on, while the two of them wrestled for dominance on the bed, to the extent that the bedsheets were almost removed in their struggles. "Make love to me," she then whispered into his ear, almost pleading him, her long, white fingers burrowed into his short, dark hair. "Please..."

There was no need for foreplay, no need to build what was already there... Makarov positioned himself above her, and gently thrust his manhood into her heavenly depths, kissing her yet again. She was so beautiful to his eyes, particularly at the height of passion, when her fair complexion was reddened in the heat of things, golden hair sprawling in every single direction imaginable, sapphire eyes glazed with desire and need.

It was as if they had come to one another as per Mother Nature's iron will, the two of them, two souls that never should have crossed paths at all. Soon, her seductive moans became nothing but breathless pants, her arms, wrapped around his shoulders. She was close to reaching her peak, he knew it. Within mere moments, they came to their orgasms at the same time, screaming one another's names.

"Thank you..." she murmured, the very moment he had pulled himself out of her, as spent as she had been. He smiled, and caressed her face before kissing her forehead. This young woman, she had already dominated all his senses, and his thoughts, when he wished to admit it. He led her head onto his chest, and watched her fall asleep, with an arm around her, her hand in his.

Deep down, he knew that he was the cause of all this. He should have killed her when he had the chance. But when he saw those sapphire eyes, he knew that he could not live another moment without knowing that he could see them again, whether or not he wished to acknowledge that fact head on.

"Anya or Maria, you are still the same," he murmured into her ear, even if he knew that she would not be able to hear him. Thus, he too, was plunged into the deepest ends of what sleep could bring, relieved, by the fact that she did not wake again that night.

* * *

Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141 Submarine – Location classified

* * *

Maria Allen was alive... Those words came from Kamarov himself... MacTavish did not know whether or not to believe those words, but there was one thing about his old friend that he knew was certain: that man would never take a course of action that would not bring benefit to anyone, be it himself, or others.

"You should be sleeping right now, Captain."

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and when he had been aware of it, Shepherd was right opposite him, pouring a generous shot of the whiskey that he had on the table. They were in the mess hall, while the others were most probably asleep in their quarters.

"Nah, can't sleep," he replied. When there were only the two of them, there was no use for military honorifics. "Shepherd, has anyone told you where Maria Allen's body is?" he asked Shepherd, cutting straight to the point. "I mean, you won't let the Russians keep her there like that, would you?"

For the slightest moment there, MacTavish seemed to detect that Shepherd was rather apprehensive about the subject. But whatever appeared on the older man's face had disappeared almost immediately, and was replaced by worry. "In fact, we've been trying to get her back to our soil," he answered. "She's a good patriot, loyal and willing to do whatever it takes..." So, Shepherd was leaving her in Russia... Did he even know that she was alive? "MacTavish, you're a great Captain. You take care of the soldiers under you even before you've even met them."

"It's all in a day's work," MacTavish answered. "Well then, I'd better turn in," he said, rising and walking back towards his quarters, leaving Shepherd there in the mess hall, no doubt dwelling deep in his own thoughts, while he delved into his own.

If Allen was truly alive, then there was something very, very wrong in the picture. It was obvious that they would have a traitor among them, because Vladimir Makarov obviously knew that she had been an American agent. Of course, the main suspect would be Shepherd, if this was all true, but yet another question came into his head:

What would be Shepherd's motive? What would he gain when the two greatest countries on the face of the world was locked in the heat of war, as they were now?


	8. Prisoner

Anya looked at the dark skies before her... "It would always be darkest before dawn," Makarov told her, giving her the M4A1 that she always favored. For the most individualistic soldier that he had met, she carried the most common of weapons... Another irony that he found in her, adding to her mystique that brought him wanting more and more. She would be transported to the Monastery, the Gulag where Prisoner 627 was held captive. It was one day after she had returned from Rio de Janeiro, one day since her nightmares begun to settle in, but it mattered little now. She knew very well that this mission would bring her a step closer to what they both had worked for.

Her sapphire eyes gleamed when she took the weapon from his hands, smiling ever so slightly. "Thanks," she said, and looked out towards the dark, starry sky. It was a sight that many would kill to behold, rolling green forests, white mountains capped with snow... An elegant estate in the center of it all... Makarov was a man who knew how to live, when the time was right, that was. "For everything..." This man was the man that she was sent to kill, but yet, he was the one who gave her a new life, and a new purpose...

Makarov smiled, and kissed her forehead. "You will not disappointment yourself and I," he told her. "I have faith in you, my dear." Her sapphire eyes looked into his heterochromic eyes, finding only encouragement... "I will wait for you in Afghanistan after this. Your pilot will know where to go." Afghanistan? Why Afghanistan? "Shepherd will certainly send the Task Force 141 to gather information on my operations, which contains evidence of his dealings with me," Makarov explained, taking her hand in his, and kissing her knuckles.

"He told you to go to Afghanistan before all this happened, didn't he?" Anya asked him in return. "To accept your payment for the attack on the airport?" Solemnly, he nodded, confirming her suspicions. "He'll bring about a full-scale attack on you... Who knows what Shepherd has in store?"

"Shepherd has an entire base in Afghanistan, known as Site Hotel Bravo," Makarov replied, "He wishes to get rid of me, but you will do the same to him. Free Prisoner 627 with the Task Force 141, and follow them to whatever mission that they will take. When Shepherd splits them into two, follow whoever who goes to the air-based vehicle boneyard in Kandahar." After having said those words, he took her into his arms and embraced her. "Be careful, Anya. I did not spare your life just to have you killed by either your own countrymen or mine." He was about to add a few more words, words that would tell her so much more that he meant to, but he decided to stifle his tongue. There would be a time and place for that, perhaps.

Anya nodded her head. "You too," she told him. She knew that she needed to pull away from him. If she had not, she would not be able to... Gently placing her hands on his strong chest, she gently took a step back, propelling herself from him. "I should go now..."

* * *

Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

The Monastery, 40 Miles off Petropavlovsk, Russia

* * *

All right, this was not a good situation to be it at all. 18 men, Navy SEALS, Task Force 141 members, and one Little Bird armed with guns, was not enough to take down even the front defenses of the Gulag Prisoner 627 was kept in. If only they had larger firepower... Oh yes, the Russian and American Navies were fighting one another in the sea not far from them... "We'll be sitting ducks if we don't push in faster!" Roach heard someone comment. Way to go, Captain Obvious.

Suddenly, he heard MacTavish shout something. He did not hear it, but he certainly saw it. It was an RPG, and immediately, Roach scrambled for cover. However, there was one big question in his head: Where the hell did that RPG come from? And there was not only one, but about three or four shots, all aimed towards the guards, finished off with a shot from a Stinger.

"Looks like someone likes us," MacTavish announced, looking towards the balcony not far from them, and fired his M203 towards its direction. When the smoke and the dust subsided, a woman, wearing Kevlar, armed with an M4A1, and a sniper rifle that he could not yet recognize came into sight. A woman, fully armed, with gold hair and sapphire eyes... Now, where did he see her before?

"You look like you need some help," she told them when she leapt from the balcony (which wasn't that high up anyways) and ran towards them, shooting down the tangoes one by one. Her sapphire eyes, they were glowing with a wild fire that MacTavish could not describe. However, no matter who they were, it was no time to check the hot chick out.

Ghost, on the other hand, was not ready to trust her at all. She came from enemy territory, and she would most likely be an enemy. "Who the hell are you?" he asked her, shooting another guard in the head.

"I'm Anya," she answered, looking into his tinted sunglasses. Secretly, she gave all of them a familiar looking badge. It was a badge that carried the emblem of the Task Force 141- A winged skull with a sword thrust into it, with her real name etched below it. Maria Allen... She really was Maria Allen... "I heard that you would need help, so I bade the Loyalists to bring me here,"

Although it sounded strange to the others, MacTavish knew that what she said absolutely made sense. Kamarov had contacted him personally, telling him that she was alive... But he never thought that she would recover from her wounds so fast. She looked exactly like how she did in her profiles, and seemed to be just as skilled. Like him and Roach, she was the designated sniper.

At that split second, she shook her head, and told them not to say anything else. She knew that Shepherd would have already heard her voice, and there was no way around it already. What was important, was that they knew who she was. "Captain, I am under your command," she told MacTavish, who nodded accordingly.

* * *

They had come to the entrace of the Gulag, several minutes just after Anya had arrived. "This is it," MacTavish shouted. "We go in, grab Prisoner 627 and get out! Check your corners, go, go!"

All of them were running as though they were chased by a pack of wolves... It had been a long time since she had been working in a team, and she felt as though she had returned to her old days as a Ranger, the only difference being that all of the others were highly specialized spec-ops personnel, the best among the world had ever seen. "That's the control room up ahead," Ghost said, "I can use it to find the prisoner!" That was a good idea, Anya mused, and stopped to take out a few tangos at the stairways leading to the cells below them. "I'll tap into the systems to look for the prisoner, it will take some time!"

"Copy that," MacTavish agreed. "Roach, Anya, we're on cell duty, follow me!"

Without saying a word, Roach and Anya followed him and dashed down the stairs. One by one, they checked the cells for any signs of life, but to no avail... That place was completely deserted save for the approaching guards, which they took down one by one. "Hey, you're not a bad shot, Anya," Roach praised appreciatively. She smiled, and told him that he was not so bad himself. When speaking of rank, he would be slightly higher than she would be, but they were alike in age... And to think that she almost considered to kill him.

"All right, I'm patced in," Ghost announced. However, when MacTavish asked if he had the location of Prisoner 627, he said, "Negative, but I've got a searchlight tracking hostiles on your floor, this should make your job easier."

"Roger that," MacTavish added. "Stay sharp, the prisoner might be anywhere in these cells..." And they hit a security door. "Ghost, we've hit a security door, get it open!"

"Working on it... This hardware is ancient!"

Truth be told, Anya was glad that the doors were not open, at least they would have more time to take out the guards before they came towards them by the hordes. She knew just how many men Makarov had under his own banner, and these men were only just scratching the surface. Before long, Ghost was able to get the door open, but still, there was no sign of a prisoner anywhere.

"Talk to me Ghost, these cells are deserted," MacTavish shouted.

"Got it, Prisoner 627's been transferred to the east wing... Head to the that armory down there, move!"

Her sapphire eyes gleamed when she saw that many weapons, but Anya knew that now was not the time for a shopping spree... She took the time to reload her M4A1, and when about three or four squads of the enemy began to converge at their location, they quickly took riot shields, and waited until Ghost could open the armory's back doors. Their riot shields were used to draw the fire of the guards, and before long, they were able to rappel down a window to the lower levels.

Somehow, Anya knew, that their mission would not be an easy one...

* * *

They had breached a wall, coming into a shower system. That was when Anya had her chance to shine. Her sapphire eyes, they were as sharp as ever. Quickly switched to her sniper rifle, and brought all the tangos on the second story. "Impressive," MacTavish praised, just as Roach had done. No wonder she had been a designated sniper... Wait... Royce and Meat, they were killed by a sniper as well... But no, she could not be that sniper. They were in Rio de Janeiro, while she would most probably be still recovering from her wounds...

Within mere seconds, they were met by heavy assault troops, causing her to roll her eyes. She had taken out the Russian FSB forces with just a flashbang, and a machine gun... Which reminded her... She saw one right nearby her. Quickly, she took the MG4 on the floor, and repeated the tactics that she had used with the FSB. Thus, the heavy assault troops were dead within seconds.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Roach asked, who had used the "normal" way of flanking them, or using grenades, which could be easily evaded.

"Well, let's say that I'm rather unlucky to meet them more than once," she replied as they advanced through the showers, leaping down a large gaping hole in the floor. They were now in the old tunnel system of the Gulag, heading somewhere between the south and the southwest. Luckily, Ghost told them that 627 was near them...

Together, they slid down a slope, before reaching a dead end, and a rather wide wall. "I'm detecting two heat signatures," Ghost proclaimed. "One of them should be 627!"

Once again, they breached the wall, and saw a man, strangling one of the guards with a chain. Anya shot the guard dead, but Roach, rather unluckily, had been punched right in the face by Prisoner 627. Their natural reaction had been to take aim at the man, who had done the same to Roach with an AK-47 which he had quickly reached for. No doubt, it had been the guard's. "Drop it!" MacTavish barked, not expecting what 627 would say in reply.

"Soap?"

Wait a minute, they knew each other?

"Price?"

Alright, she knew that Makarov was going to get it. She had heard of Captain Price before, that was the man who led the team that took down Imran Zakhaev! No wonder he hated the man more than the Americans... However, there was no time to threaten bosses/allies/sort-of lovers that were not there. They had to make their escape. In any moment, the vast building would fall upon them...

"Want to test how lucky you are, kiddo?" Anya teased Roach as they saw the chopper right before them. Within a day, she had seen this man take the brunt of bad luck, while she remembered that in Rio de Janeiro, he had barely missed the jump to the helicopter that would have extracted them... However, their exit was blocked by the debris that fell when the Navy began their bombardment... They had to find another way.

"Heh, you don't know how unlucky I am," Roach replied as they started to look for an alternate route, coming onto an unused canteen. "It's a dead end," Anya heard someone shout, but she could not make out who it was... And, just as Roach predicted, he had been almost flattened by a rather large piece of rock. He was duly helped by Price and Anya. "Thanks," he muttered sheepishly.

Price however, was not so lighthearted, even if Anya smiled slightly at his words. "Whatever you're gonna do, Soap, do it fast!" he shouted at MacTavish, who shot a grenade high into the sky, so that the chopper's pilot could see them. Within seconds, a rope was lowered down to them. A SPIE rig...

"Hook up, let's go!" MacTavish shouted once again. Anya looked up at him, and he said, "You too, Anya."

Anya... It was a Russian name, and Price jumped at the mention of the name. "It's a call sign," she told Price, who nodded in understanding immediately...They were quickly hauled up into the Pave Low, and headed towards the submarine that acted as the Task Force 141 marine base.

* * *

Now that Prisoner 627, no, Captain Price was free, she knew that she was one step closer to the freedom of her own. 


	9. 141

"Welcome to the 141."

This was not the first time that she had heard those words. Shepherd had said them to her, almost a lifetime ago. Now, it was Captain MacTavish, whose nickname was revealed to be "Soap", thanks to Captain Price. She understood now, why Makarov hated this man more than the Americans, he was the leader of Bravo Team of the British SAS, which was working with the USMC, meaning that this man and his team-mates could be the one who killed Imran Zakhaev. She was only seventeen then, but she knew all about it, through the news. Both the British and US governments had denied strongly of any claim that they were responsible, but the Ultranationalists never let go of this, increasing its hatred towards these two nations.

"It is an honor, sir," Anya replied. Now, once again, she would be known as Maria Allen. Not that the name she was using ever bothered her, she was essentially the same person, with the same mission, but still, being right there, back with the Task Force 141, it was as if her mission involving Makarov did not happen at all. She was so tempted, so damned tempted to forget that it even happened throughout her participation in the Gulag... Her sapphire eyes then looked back towards Petropavlovsk, where the Gulag once stood, and further back towards the Caucasus Mountains... Makarov would have already cleared his safehouse by then. She smiled inwardly, and found Ghost's hand on her shoulder.

He had taken off his balaclava and his shades, revealing a gentle-faced man, with blue eyes the color of the summer's skies. "You don't have to remember anything that happened back there," he told her. "We'll all take care of you, don't worry."

She chuckled, and nodded as a sign of thanks, turning her sapphire eyes towards him. "Thanks," she replied. "But what can't kill me can only make me stronger, right?" In one aspect of it, Makarov not killing her was the only way for her to even be there... And in some respects, it did make her stronger. She learnt that sacrifices would have to be made for anything to succeed. The first sacrifice that she had made was that of her own. She was willing to put down all of her beliefs, her hopes and dreams, to save and reclaim her nation from her own traitorous son, the others that followed, were the lives that she should never have taken...

"Now, Maria," Price said to her. "You said that you were found by the Loyalists?" That was strange, seeing that the Ultranationalists had gained total control of Russia, how was it that there were able to infiltrate the FSB as she had said?

She took a deep breath and answered, "Kamarov had a few of his men acting as spies among the Ultranationalists, and they were able to gather that Makarov was going to attack Zakhaev International Airport." As she spoke those words, she looked towards the two Captains. They knew Sergeant Kamarov well enough, and she knew that they would believe her when his name was laid out in the open. "He said that as long as there was still hope for his movement, he would always remain active."

Price harrumphed, causing her to jump a little, immediately igniting her senses as she racked her brains for a possible back-up plan. "That's just like Kamarov, eh Soap?" he said with half a smile, and MacTavish nodded. At those words, she heaved a sigh of relief, inwardly. She had told Kamarov that he could not tell a soul that she was going to Makarov, and he had agreed. For that one moment, she was suddenly afraid that his good sense would take the better of him. She was lucky that he didn't do so.

"He is a good man," she commented, looking downwards. It was the truth, that Kamarov was a good man, but there was no use for her to talk of him now, no matter how grateful she was to him... She looked around the strange faces, and they looked back at her. Within moments, she got acquainted with them, knowing full-well that these men were not all of the Task Force 141. Shepherd had told her that it was a company-sized faction, and there were only a few of them there in the Pave Low...

"So... what was it like?" Roach asked her, breaking the uncomfortable silence amongst them. She did not need anyone to tell her what he was asking her about, she knew it immediately, without needing Ghost to knock on the man's head with his knuckles. "I mean, if you want to tell us about it..."

She decided to be honest with them, and spared no details. How she had thought of a better way of escape for Makarov and his men, how she had gunned down men, women and children that awful day... She told them how they fought off the FSB on the runway, and finally, how Makarov shot her, right until how she came to find herself with the Loyalists. The only things that she had left out concerned Makarov and Shepherd, and she knew that one day, they would know what would happen as well.

The Captain already had his suspicions, she could tell. He was observing her every move from the moment she had helped them to soften the defenses of the Gulag. However, there was no single reason for him not to trust her at that time and place. "How did Kamarov know that we would be at the Gulag?" he asked her, staring her down. It was a very good question, but she had already prepared herself for it.

"He only knew that the Ultranationalists were increasing their defenses there out of a sudden," she replied, not losing to his hard gaze. "And he suspected that it would be a US-led mission. I was very lucky to find you guys..."

It seemed that the answer fit him suitably, and MacTavish did not press her to answer any other questions, but the others did. One after the other, they interrogated her on matters like where did she come from, how old she was, was she single or not (to almost comedic effect, and an old social networking website came to mind, as she told them "It's complicated"). All in all, they seemed to be a fun group to be with... Anya was relieved, that they did not suspect anything else from her, but then again, she had never given them any reason to do so.

* * *

She was given a room with Roach, who was technically the FNG until she came. Strangely, they were transported to their home base, somewhere between Russia and a bordering Chinese village near Petropavlosk. "So, Roach, what do you guys usually do here?" she asked him, looking down at the man from her upper bunk. In the mere hour that she had been there, she could immediately notice that their headquarters was a state of the art military facility, complete with a fully-stocked armory and infirmary, mess halls, training courses, and sports facilities as well. Oh, and they had three videogame rooms, for reasons totally lost upon her.

"Well, usually when we're here, we're either too hurt to go on missions, or we're here for some R and R, but don't have enough time to get back to our homes," Roach explained. So, this was what the land-base was for, when they had a fully operational submarine base as well. This time around, Roach had a few bandages on him, mostly due to a large chunk of the Gulag that fell upon him as they were making their escape, but the resident medic had told him that he would be alright in about a few days.

"So, basically, it's your home away from home?" she asked him, and he nodded in anwer. "Hey, Roach, who was your CO when you were with the Rangers?" She knew that he was a Ranger, because most of the US soldiers in the 141 were soldiers under Shepherd's command, meaning the Rangers, and whatever individuals that he could find. Roach gave her a name that she knew only from afar. "Mine was Sergeant Foley," she told him with a chuckle.

Roach laughed out loud at that moment. "You mean Sergeant "Do Everything" Foley?" he asked, causing her to laugh as well. "How did you get through life with that guy? I heard that he'd ask every single person to do everything for him!"

"No, usually, it's only one guy," she told him. Usually, it would be the lowest member in the hierachy. She was a Corporal, therefore, his XO, thus, she was immune from that kind of menial labor. She would not say the same for poor, poor Ramirez, though. And now, when the United States were under attack, he would certainly be overworked.

Their mirth was soon interrupted by MacTavish's voice, which blared through the sound systems of the entire facility. "Maria Allen, codename: Anya, please report to the briefing room immediately. Roach, show her the way."

* * *

Within ten minutes, they were in the briefing room, where they could see only Price and MacTavish, the latter, typing endlessly on a keyboard. In front of them, was a huge projector screen. "You wanted to see me, sirs?" she asked when Roach left the room after he had led her there. Her instincts told her that this would not sit well with her at all. For some reason or other, Price suspects her, while MacTavish... he seemed rather ambivalent about it... That man was so hard to read that even Makarov seemed like an open book.

"Aye, lass," MacTavish said, gesturing for her to take a seat. Cautiously, she did as she was told, looking into the almost similar blue eyes of the two captains. "Well, I'll be honest with you, Maria." Maria... None of her COs ever used her first name with her. It was usually "Allen", or her rank. "You've been with Makarov for about a day before you attacked the airport. I want you to tell me as much as you can about him, just anything."

She sighed and nodded. "Where do you want me to start?" she asked in return, and was told go just give every single shred of Makarov's operations that she knew of. Taking a deep breath, she said, "He is the real leader of the Ultranationalists. Boris Vorshevsky is only a pawn in the seat of the President." That first piece of information was already shocking enough. For quite some time now, Makarov given the world the impression that he was feuding with his own former allies, due to the fact that Vorshevsky had ousted him out of the inner circles of the Ultranationalist Party for being an "extremist", or so to speak. "None of them dare to even move a finger without Makarov saying anything. The attack on the US, Vorshevsky would not have done so without a green light from Makarov."

That was what she had known, up until the point before the attack on Zakhaev International Airport. She was not lying to them, she was merely withholding the truth until the time was right. She knew that Price did not trust Shepherd as easily as MacTavish had hoped. "Makarov also controls the Russian Special Forces," she added, closing her eyes, remembering the faces of the men that constantly surrounded his safehouse. "The Spetsnaz..."

If Shepherd and Makarov's forces really locked heads, she knew that there was a high possibility that they would not be a real victor. On the other hand, if Shepherd were to have his own "handpicked warriors" from American soil, loyal only to him and the American flag, as Makarov had told her... She did not even dare to imagine the outcome of that happening...

"Thank you, Maria," Price said, grasping her shoulder gently. "You've been a great help."

This would be the indicator that she would be dismissed right now, since MacTavish told her that they would be leaving on a "little side mission" the next day. Her sapphire eyes flashed for a moment, and immediately, MacTavish knew that there was something amiss with her. "What is it?" he asked gently. "You can tell us anything."

"I would appreciate it that you don't tell Shepherd that I'm still alive, sirs," she told them, casting her eyes onto the floor. She did not say more, and made to leave the room with a small dip of her head. She had not come so far only to have Shepherd trying to kill her. She knew that the old snake would turn the entire 141 against her if he wanted to.

"Don't worry," Price replied. "We know... He won't know about you until you are ready to show yourself. I promise you that."

She did not know what worth was the promise of those two Captains, but inside, her instincts told her that they were men who could be trusted with her life, unlike Shepherd. The Rangers knew how he had treated his own units, sending men and women to their deaths by the dozens just so that he could achieve his own goals... She had been just a pawn when he had taken her into the Task Force 141, a pawn that could speak Russian, which pretty much sealed the deal for her.

"Thanks," she murmured, dipping her head slightly as she moved out of the room. Double agent or not, she was still a soldier, and old habits died hard anyways.

* * *

_Welcome to the 141...

* * *

_

The first time she had heard those words, she had been a hopeful young soldier, willing to sacrifice everything to change the world. But now, the second time she heard it, she was still a young soldier, willing to sacrifice everything to stop the world from changing too drastically. If Shepherd was allowed to continue with his ambitions, both Russia and America would only be the victims of his dark heart...


	10. Contingency

Price was very suspicious of the woman known as "Anya". Yes, she was easy on the eyes, and yes, she was the same woman that had been deployed into Russia... But he could not to notice that there was something rather off with the girl. The one that sounded his internal alarms was her request not to alert Shepherd of her presence, that she was even alive... Well, perhaps it was because she did not want Shepherd to know because she had failed her mission, or due to some issues with the man himself... From Soap, he had learnt that not many of the US Army Rangers trusted him, due to his nature of sacrificing anything and anyone to fulfill the tasks that he had placed before him.

However, he could not doubt that this young woman would not be an able part of their team. She was a highly trained sniper, and not just any designated marksman, er, markswoman, and for this mission alone, it was what they had needed more than anything. If they had succeeded, they would manage to end both sides of the war... Hopefully.

* * *

_"Uplink nearly complete," MacTavish announced, not long after Maria had left the room. "General Shepherd, you're online with Captain Price."_

_The General sounded very, very surprised indeed. Captain Price was almost infamous for leading the joint-operations team that managed to kill Imran Zakhaev five years ago, and being MIA shortly after. "Back from the brink, Captain," he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice. _

_Price, however, did not have the same cheerful attitude and outlook currently. "Out of the frying pan is more like it," he replied. Soap had told him evernything he needed to know about what had happened in all the five years he had been in the Gulag, and honestly, he did not like what he had heard. "This world seems more like hell than the one I just left."_

_"We thought that we could recover the ACS before the Russians could crack it," Shepherd added. "But Makarov turns the US into his scapegoat, and the next thing you know, there's flames everywhere..." Suddenly, a dialog box was opened on his computer. Price was sending him something... It was a submarine, Russian, carrying a nuclear paylod of about 16 megeatons, as well as its other specifications that followed. It must have been the information that Price had somehow gained while in the Gulag. "What's this image you're sending me?"_

_Price took no time in answering his question. "You wanna put out an oil fire, sir, you set off a bigger explosion next to it," he said, as if it was the most common thing in the world. "Sucks away the oxygen, snuffs out the flames..."_

_"Price, you've been locked away for too long," was the reply from Shepherd. "Better get your mind right, son."_

_Well, that was a brilliant answer, wasn't it? However, Price was not going to take a "No" for any answer. Thus, he decided to push any buttons that Shepherd might have had. "Shepherd, are you willing to do what is necessary to win?" he asked the older man, and received the answer that he had wanted. "We've got ourselves a pretty big fire... Gonna need a huge bang." _

_"You've been in the Gulag for too long, Price," Shepherd chided. "Focus on taking out Makarov."_

_"No time, sir," Price said in return. "We need to end this war today!"_

_"I'm not asking you, Price. This is an order! You're to..."_

_With the push of a button, the uplink had been terminated, leaving MacTavish to only shake his head at his former Captain's actions. These courses of actions were highly iconic of Price, and he had to admit, some of it, had passed onto him. Well, only just some of it. _

_"Hmmm... Looks like we've lost our connection," Price muttered almost innocently._

* * *

Anya had to admit it, she had never heard Makarov say anything about the Russians having a submarine anything like the one they were supposed to take down, with such a huge payload of nuclear missles. As Price and MacTavish briefed them on what they were supposed to do, her mind's eye quickly ran over to the effects of that missile being deployed anywhere, and quickly stopped herself from continuing. Anyone who would deploy that nuclear missile anywhere was nothing short of a heartless monster, for it would decimate not only lives, innocent or otherwise, but also homes, buildings, and the land itself... She remembered the time when five years ago, 30,000 Marines were killed in one such nuclear explosion in the Middle East, and even now, the people there were suffering...

"Anya, you're coming with us on this mission," MacTavish told her, and she nodded in answer. There was no need to say anything else, really. However, officially, this would be her first mission with them as a Task Force 141 combatant, and she knew that it could well be her only one. In fact, she was literally jumping at the opportunity to work beside them, just as she had been when she had been first inducted into the 141...

"This time, we'll be going rogue," Price added, stating the utterly obvious. They all knew Shepherd's orders, but saw logic in Price's courses of action as well. All of them knew that they would rather bear the consequences of their actions rather than to sit and just wait for orders to stop Makarov's operations. If Makarov really was the leader of the Ultranationalists, then there would be no telling what that bloody psychopath would be doing... They would sleep better at night, knowing that he'll have one less WMD to use on the USA in the very least.

Roach, always chirpy and cheerful stood up and said, "Sir, we just wanna end the war like you do." Rather like Anya, he was young, and he was American. There was no single shred of doubt that he would have lost many loved ones in that war, and perhaps even more... "If Shepherd wants to put the blame on anyone, he'll have to do it on all of us."

There was a loud chorus of affirmative grunts and other gestures, which all put a slight smile to Price's face. "Well then, it's good to know that all of you are so eager to do this."

* * *

Two hours later

* * *

Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen (A.K.A Ultranationalist codename "Anya")

Task Force 141

Petropavlosk, Russia.

* * *

Anya had landed not far from Price and Roach, between the south and the south-east of the base right near the coast. She was the first one to get out of her parachute, and threw Price a nod of acknowledgment just as he had done the same. "Price, Anya, I can barely see Roach's chute from the satellite feed," MacTavish said, his voice passed into their comms. "Too much interference... Do you see him, over?"

It did not take long for Anya to know that as always, Roach's bad luck would always precede him. However, they managed to find him not far from them, struggling to get the parachute off him. It had been a hard landing, indeed. "We've found him, Soap," Price replied, "He appears to be intact. We're gonna head northwest to be sub base, over."

With one fluid motion, Anya helped the other man sort himself out, while Price continued forwards. "Copy that," MacTavish said, "The rest of the team landed near Ghost, pretty far to the east."

Great, just great. When they were going to secure a freaking nuclear missile, a big gust of wind just have to blow in their direction, separating the team. Price told MacTavish to tell the others to proceed with the mission, and that they would regroup if possible. However, given the size of the submarine base, Anya reckoned that they needed every single soul that they could get.

* * *

They had already fought through the outer defenses of the base, having regrouped with Ghost and the others. Price, Roach and Anya had traded their M14 EBRs for other non-sniper weapons... "There's the sub!" Anya said, looking at the enemy submarine from her vantage point. They would have to do a little more work to get into the heart of the base, where that submarine was, and Price knew just the way to do it.

"Roach, soften up their defenses with the Predator," Price said, "Watch for the flashing strobes, that's us."

Roach did what he was told to do, and shot down the a helicopter. "You've got their attention now," MacTavish commented. "The whole base is on alert, you've better hurry, though. You've only got a few minutes before that submarine dives."

* * *

Fighting their way into the base, Roach used the Predator Drone a few more times, taking off BTRs and a few trucks out of the way. Anya and Price had decided to go into the submarine to disarm it, while the rest were to cover them from a guardhouse to the west. "Price, what the hell are you doing?" Anya asked when Price suddenly cornered her and held his side-arm to her temple.

His expression unchanging, Price took out their comms and said, "I think that you're a little double agent, Maria..." Shit, how the hell was her cover blown? "Soap may trust you easily, but I don't. From the very first moment you went back to the base, you told us that you didn't want Shepherd to know that you're still alive, and you seem to know a lot more about Makarov than you told us. Why the hell is that?"

Anya sighed. There really was no being two-faced with Price around. "You want to know why?" she asked him in return. "I'll tell you why. That man was the one who hired Makarov to attack the airport." Price continued to stare at her, his pistol still aimed towards her. "I don't know for what reason, but I know that Shephed was the one who instigated this war in the first place. He sold his country and his own people to Russia. Americans are now dying in his own country, and still, this man wants to take out the person he had dealt with to erase all evidence that the two of them had worked together."

Those sapphire eyes, they immediately flared with anger and rage. Price lowered the weapon and started to turn towards the controls of the submarine. "So, you're working with Makarov now? What's in it for you?" he asked. "Anya" or "Maria"... Whoever she was, she did not seem like the kind of person that would do anything for fame or glory. But there had to be a motive to her actions...

"He knew that Shepherd would turn against him," she answered. "But on the same time, he had an invasion to manage. So, he sent me back into the 141, so that you would form your own conclusions that Shepherd was the one responsible for everything."

Makarov was right. Price knew that Soap was already suspicious of Shepherd. In fact, he knew that almost every single person that served under the general strangely distrusted him, from what he saw for himself in the 141. That man lacked concern for his own men and allies, and would do "whatever it takes" to win... "How sure can I be that you won't kill us when we least expect it?"

"You can't," she answered. "Price, the only reason why I couldn't let myself die, is because I can't live with myself knowing that Shepherd will become a war hero for all that he's done."

Those were words spoken by a true patriot. Thus, Price lowered his weapon and turned back towards the controls of the submarine. "Well, let's see if we can even out the odds, then," Price said. It was only then did she realize what Price was about to do. In her schooling years, she had studied to become a doctor, hence, was excellent in her sciences, and when she got into college, she realized her calling in the military, and decided to take a course in management and politics, but her education did not need to tell her the effects of Price's actions...

"You want to set off an EMP..."

"Such a clever girl," Price praised at her realization. She might be able to see two steps forward and two steps back, but before anything happened, she would not be able to see anything. Oh well, you can't have everything. "Now, sit back and watch the fireworks, we have a country to save," he said, handing back her comms to her.

* * *

Ghost and the others, on the other hand, were in total panic. "We have a nuclear missile launch!" Ghost shouted. "Missile in the air... Missile in the air... Code Black... Code Black!"


	11. Reunion

Never in her life, had she ever imagined that would she see the man who had knowingly sent her to her death... Every step of her life had been carefully calculated, until the very time where she had ceased being Maria Allen. Her sapphire eyes, they were blank and vacant, cast towards the floor as Shepherd berated every single member of the 141 that had taken part in the previous mission in Petropavlosk.

"All of you deliberately disregarded my orders," Shepherd said, looking at all of them. "You launched a nuclear missile into the atmosphere, and destroyed the International Space Station!"

They offered no reply, no reply at all. No one, except for her... "Sir, with all due respect, but I was of the opinion that you were the one who told us that war was worth every price," she told him. At that moment, Shepherd's eyes widened... At that moment, she knew that everything could not be planned. She knew that she would be placing herself in great danger, but she could not care anymore.

As she said those words, she remembered the many brothers that she had lost when she was in the Army Rangers. There were too many names to ever remember, but she could recall all of their faces. She was merely using his own tactics against him... "The EMP was able to even the scales in our favor," she added. "A few more strikes, and we will be able to turn the odds against the Russians."

MacTavish turned his cold blue eyes towards her and nodded. "What she said was true, sir," he said, "We're the Task Force 141. All of us are soldiers who will fight for our own families. Now that America's in trouble, we have to do what we can to help."

Shepherd knew that his men, and woman, would not back down at all. They acted as one single unit, although they originally came from the many different factions of many different militaries. "Alright, you're all off the hook," he said. "In fact, you're right... MacTavish, Allen, Price, I want to see all of you after this debrief."

These three would be the hardest to deal with. He needed a new way to separate them from the rest of their team members, and kill all of them at the same time. Allen would be most dangerous... He knew that this girl may be young, but she had all the workings of a new leader, how could he not know what was in her mind? He knew why he chose her to act as a "spy", because of her skill of making others think what they want to think, and now, she was doing just that...

"Allen, I want to know why you haven't reported that you survived the attack on Zakhaev International Airport," he told her, piercing her sapphire eyes with his own.

"Sir, she's been through a lot lately," MacTavish said, stopping Shepherd mid-sentence. She cast him a look and shook her head at him as she walked towards him.

She knew that even if she could hide from Shepherd once, she could not hide from him forever. "I failed my mission," she told him bluntly. "I was afraid..." Thousands of lives lied at her own feet, one day; she would face every single of them, but not now... She knew that she had to face him one day, whoever was with her, or was not with her.

"Nah, no one could ever blame you," he told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Makarov was always highly suspicious, even to his own men."

Makarov might have portrayed himself as a bloodthirsty killer, but she knew that it was all but a ruse. It was to bring the eyes of the world away from his operations right in the heart of the Ultranationalist regime. The Kremlin would shatter into pieces without him... That attack might not have left anything on his conscience, but she knew that he had seen it as a necessary measure. Shepherd had "hired" him to do it, while he needed an excuse to launch an attack against the United States...

All in all, no matter how much blood he had spilt, Makarov was only a man that loved his country, in his own way... Not like Shepherd. This man would risk everything for only one word: glory. In his voice, he spoke of glory for his nation, but in his heart, it was only glory for himself... That was why he was able to send thousands upon thousands of soldiers to their deaths, just to accomplish his own goals.

"Thank you, sir," she replied softly.

Shepherd nodded, and turned towards the mess of maps and mobile computers strewn across the long table. "Now, what have you got for me?"

She smiled. This would be her time to shine...

* * *

Anya left the debriefing room tired and weary. It sickened her to her very core of her being, knowing that Shepherd was right there, within striking range, and she could not do anything. Makarov... he should have already cleared his safehouse in the Caucasus Mountains. He should be in Afghanistan right now, in the suspected "arms deal" he had with some other black market top dog.

"Hey, what's up?" Roach asked her when she returned to their bunks.

"Nothing..." she answered. Her dark eyes missed his gaze, and Roach, no matter how short a time he had known her, knew that something was wrong.

He propped his head on his palm, and looked at her as she angrily took a comb to comb her gold hair. "You can tell me anything, you know. We're bunkmates."

Anya looked at him and turned away from him. "It's nothing, really," she finally answered. Her sapphire eyes, they were cast down, avoiding his eyes, and she knew, that he would not stop until she divulged something to him.

"Don't tell me," Roach said. "You have the hots for MacTavish, don't you?" he asked, causing her to emit a mere sound of cold, sarcastic laughter. Wait, that was a rather baseless claim, wasn't it? Anya had showed no signs of attraction towards the Captain at all.

Still, there was this... look on her face. "You won't get it, Roach," she told him. "Even I don't get it."

"What the hell is so hard to get?" he asked her. "It's not that you spent the night with Makarov, and you can't forget him, or that kind of shit, right?"

There was a strange silence on her part, and she stopped combing her hair violently... It was the strangest and most dangerous thing that Roach had ever come to have known. If it had been any consolation, she did not say anything. Silence had never, ever been a sign for approval and consent, right?

"Roach, if I told you a story, promise me that you won't tell anyone else," she said to him. "A long time ago, there was a girl who dreamed to be a doctor... But she knew that the world needed more soldiers, that's why she brought herself to the army. She took the advantage, and tried to be the best soldier she ever could be. And one day, her general told her that she was going to achieve the greatest success she ever could..." Roach sat up and looked at Anya, who already dropped her comb on her bunk. "She was to take down one of the world's greatest terrorists, but when she met him, he gave her his soul..."

Anya could remember every single word that Makarov had said to her. She could see through his plans, but that did not matter. The most important thing was that he never even tried to silence her, nor did he doubt her. "He saved her, Roach, from what lied before her. He left her alive, when he was supposed to kill her. The terrorist promised her that they would meet again, but how could they? When they meet again, they would have to kill one another..."

Roach just looked at her, and jumped down from his bunk, landing right next to her. "Well, maybe you won't get to see him in the battlefield," he told her. It was a fool's hope, but hope, nonetheless. However, she knew that at all costs, she had to see him again. No matter what it took, she knew that she had to see him again.

"I will die before anyone knows," Roach answered. From what he heard, it was only a one-sided thing. They might have had a fling, but it was nothing more than that, right? "Promise."

The two of them shared a small smile, and they bumped fists. Her sapphire eyes were glowing, different from how they were just a few hours ago. "Thanks, Roach," she said. "You're a real good friend."

There were tears in her eyes... "What are you crying for, you idiot?" Roach asked her.

It had been a long time since she had been with anyone that she could trust and know as a friend... It seemed like a whole lifetime ago... Within seconds, she stopped crying, but Roach was still as puzzled as ever. "It's nothing," she told him, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "I think we should get to bed... We have another big mission tomorrow."

* * *

Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen (AKA Ultranationalist Codename "Anya")

Task Force 141

The Boneyard, Kandahar, Afghanistan.

* * *

_They were being briefed on their new mission. This time, the entire Task Force 141 would be split into two. "It's been a tough week, people," Shepherd said to all of them. "__We've lost more than we ever dreamed. But we will recover. I've got a blank check. And we're gonna use every cent of it killin' Makarov. Despite what the world may say, we are not savages, we don't kill civilians. We use precision. There's an evil man hiding in these shadows and we're gonna bring him into the light. Once his face is revealed, we will write history, gentlemen."_

_So charismatic, so inspiring... Anya knew that it was all an act, much like that of her own. She crossed her arms as she heard every single word. "Sir, permission to join Captains Price and MacTavish to head to the boneyard," she said to Shepherd after raising her hand. _

_Shepherd looked at her and nodded. She was making it overly easy for him. And at the same time, Ghost had volunteered to take Roach and some of the others to Makarov's safehouse in the Caucasus Mountains... With all of them out of the way, there certainly would be no doubt that he would succeed..._

"_Sounds like we have to be at two places at once," Price commented, dipping some of his cigar ashes on the ground. _

"_Impossible?" Shepherd asked, raising his eyebrow. _

"_Not for the 141," Price replied, at the same time as Anya. The two of them looked at one another, and shared a small smile.

* * *

_

That was how she had gotten into that mess... Shepherd's men in one corner, Makarov's men in the other, in a vast area used to dump decommissioned American military vehicles. None of them had attacked one another yet, but she knew that such a thing would come soon... They were all waiting for their own orders; orders that would enable them to take one another down, in a battle that she knew would be as bloody as anything previously fought.

Leaning on an old, rusty airplane, Anya could not help but to allow her thoughts wander to a certain someone... She knew that Makarov was there. He had been a terrorist who would run at the first sight of opposition, but that did not mean that he was a coward. No, he would rather fight for another day, and now, when the fighting had not started, she knew that he would be nearby...

"What's this, a Ranger caught off her guard?"

She knew that voice... She could recognize that voice from anywhere in the world, and she would not be mistaken. "Makarov..." she murmured, and was immediately held towards a strong male body in a powerful embrace. Within seconds, her lips were pressed onto his, in a kiss that she never thought that she would have again...

"Anya..." Makarov replied, when the kiss broke. "I am glad that you are well, my dear." His words, they seemed to be wholly genuine. "You must have had cast quite an impression on Shepherd..." He knew that she was not able hide her presence from Shepherd?

"You have to get out of here," she told him, grasping his arms with her white hands. "Shepherd has this whole place surrounded... You're outnumbered three to one!" Once again, she was silenced by a kiss... He took her hands in his, and brought them to his chest. "Makarov, you have to go, now!"

Makarov only brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, and said, "Anya... You know that I have my own ways to escape." That much she knew, but still... She knew that Makarov would always have a backdoor. "But you, you must find your own way."

In her heart, she knew that Makarov already knew that this battle would be lost. He had already calculated this very early on. "Makarov... I..." She also knew that wherever he would go, she would never see him again. Their paths would cross only until there.

But... She still had so many things to tell him, so many things that she knew, he had not told her. There had been no chance for the two of them to talk of sweet dreams and fragrant memories, but when they last parted, those heterochromic eyes held a promise to her that she knew could never be broken... If only she just knew what it was...

"Anya, promise me that you will be safe," he told her, kissing her forehead as he embraced her one last time. "I will come back for you if I can." This woman, he could not leave her willingly if he had not been deliberately forced to. If he could have had his way, he would rather not to meet her, so that he did not have to be faced with the dilemmas that she had brought with her.

Anya shook her head. "Don't come back if you can escape," she told him, "Shepherd will kill you right here if he can..."

The two of them had been two different people anyways, they could never be together forever. She was a soldier, fighting to restore hope to a dying country, while he had been a man hellbent with vengeance and ambition. They could never be happy together, even if they tried.

But still, he held her in his arms. "Go, now," he whispered into her ear. If she did not leave him now, he knew that he would not be able to part with her...


	12. The Enemy of My Enemy

"Anya..."

This word conveyed more than she knew, more than she could ever imagine, especially when Makarov said it.

But now, everything had changed. Everything had changed...

"They will not stop until all of us are dead, Anya," Makarov told her, loosening his hold over her. His hands, they were holding hers. The very moment that he had placed his orders to attack anyone not on their side, this included her as well. Her sapphire eyes, they were trained on a target that had taken aim on her. That man was an American, and she shot him in the leg. "You won't kill him?" he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

She returned her gaze back to him, and answered, "I don't want another American to die because of me," she told him. "Other than Shepherd..."

Her days in the Task Force 141 were very limited, but she could feel the effect of the deaths that she had caused. Meat and Royce, they had been indispensible parts of their team. From the time that she had joined the 141, she had known that all of their own had been like one big family...

Makarov looked at her, and he knew that she was on the verge of breaking... She had been a fiery soul at the very beginning, but because of her need for vengeance, and the need to stop a madman, she was forced to kill more than just innocent victims... That fire was true fire, and now he knew, that it could never be addled with anything else.

"Makarov..." she murmured. She was not supposed to be there. She was supposed to hand him to Price and MacTavish... But no. She was there with him, where she had felt safer than anywhere in the world. They were right in the heart of the boneyard, where Shepherd's men were not able to track them yet... She knew that from their tracking devices, she would look as if she had been engaged in close-quarters combat with someone.

"A stubborn one, aren't you?" Makarov asked her, caressing the side of her face. She lightly grasped his wrist, and leaned closer to him. Her sapphire eyes, these sapphire eyes that were filled with determination, yet, only just so much left... "Anya..."

She smiled, and rolled her eyes. "Is my name all that you can say now?" she asked him, causing him to let out a sound of wry laughter. She kissed him on his forehead, and brought his eyes to her, as he had done the same to her. "Where is Site Hotel Bravo?"

She was not asking him, nor had she been pleading him... But she was demanding that location of him. Makarov smiled. That girl was learning, and she was learning fast. In the past, she had learnt to see the causes and effects of the actions of others, but now, she was slowly able to make her own moves based on the information that she had obtained...

"I know that you would ask me that," he told her, and whispered its exact location into her ear. With that, he knew that they could not stay together for long. They had already delayed their parting for too long. "Anya... when will I ever see you again?" he asked, after kissing her softly. He would sorely miss the taste of her lips after that day.

Her answer was a blunt one. "Hopefully not," she said.

* * *

Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

The Boneyard, Kandahar, Afghanistan.

* * *

He could not believe it... He was being attacked, not only by Makarov's men, but also by Shepherd's. Shadow Company... these men were not loyal to the American flag, these men were loyal only to Shepherd. "Roach... Ghost?" he asked through his comms. The signals of those that were sent to the Caucasus Mountains had all disappeared, indicating only one possibility, and he hoped that it was not true. "Ghost, do you copy? Does anybody copy?"

"Captain, nobody's answering!" Anya replied, panic laced through her voice. No... that was impossible. They were the Task Force 141. They could not have been eliminated by Makarov's forces there. Unless... "Captain... Now you know why I couldn't die."

What the hell? What was she talking about?

"They're dead, Soap," Price replied. "Shepherd's cleaning house. I'm working my way back to you with Anya."

Shepherd... Everything happened because of him. "Shepherd betrayed us... Anya, you knew this all along!"

"Of course I knew," Anya replied, appearing right next to him. "I saw through everything when Makarov shot me, Captain. I told myself that I won't stop until Shepherd is dead... He betrayed not only us, he betrayed the United States of America."

Price interrupted the two of them. "You have to trust someone to be betrayed," he said. "I never did... Nikolai, come in. Do you have our location?"

The answer from Nikolai was prompt. "Da, inbound, Price," the Russian said. "But I am not the only one. You've got Shepherd's men on one side, and Makarov's on another."

That was not a good situation indeed. Already, Anya and MacTavish were busy sniping off any enemies from the broken airplane they had taken cover in. "We'll have to take them all out, then," Price said wearily. However, Nikolai had the better idea. They could let them take each other out, the Russian thought. "Anya, did you see Makarov anywhere?"

"No news is good news, Price," she replied. She knew that Price had a very great sense of suspicion. He could already have guessed that she and Makarov... "I can't even see him if I want to..."

"Makarov is a slippery fox, don't worry," Price replied. "Soap... Anya, Shepherd's trying to wipe out us and Makarov at the same time. Head for rally point Bravo to the West, go, go!"

The two of them did not need Price to tell them twice. Switching to their UMP 45s, they began to run into the middle of the battlefield. "Anya, tell me the truth, what happened after Kamarov saved you?" MacTavish asked her, looking into her sapphire eyes. Come to think of it, Kamarov never told him what happened to her after he had rescued her.

There was no point hiding that fact any more... "I went to Makarov's safehouse... And he told me to get back into the 141 as a double agent. I know that you are angry, but I promise you, Captain, that all I want is to see Shepherd dead."

"Soap, what she said is true," Price said. "If Anya wanted to kill all of us, she would have done so without all this needing to happen." MacTavish sighed, and closed his eyes. Price was right. If Anya had anything up her sleeves, she would have done something earlier.

She said nothing else, focusing mainly on getting to the LZ. "So, that's why you didn't want us to tell Shepherd that you were alive in the first place," he told her. A weak smile could be found on her face, signifying her answer. They looked towards the west, finding only more enemies... Makarov's men and Shepherd's...

"Captain, it doesn't matter whose side I'm on," she told him. "What matters is that we take Shepherd down, and make sure that he isn't the one who'll write history."

History is written by the victor... Those words were words often said by Shepherd. He should know. Anya, she may be just a young Corporal, but she could see everything around her with such amazing clarity that it amazed him. However, it did not change the fact that she had been a double agent. She was sent from the Task Force 141 to feed Ultranationalist information back towards them, and not the other way around as well. He should have known better not to trust her the moment she showed him that she was a real member of the 141.

However, that did not change the fact that they had more important things to take care of...

Together, they ran towards the LZ, taking down the men that came towards them. "I'll try to contact Makarov," Price announced, when they were halfway towards their destination, slowly creeping through the dismantled parts of airplanes, tanks, and Hummers strewn all across the place. "Makarov, this is Price, Shepherd's a war-hero now. He's got your operations playbook and a blank check. Give me what you have on Shepherd, and I'll take care of the rest..."

There was no answer from Makarov. Anya knew, that he was busy calculating what he had at stake. She also knew that Makarov could not possibly win this by himself... This much, she already knew that he would find his own way to escape. MacTavish looked at her, and found that her smile that he had previously seen had widened, just a little, but it was there.

"I know that you can hear me on this channel, Makarov," Price added, almost threateningly. "You and I both know that you won't last a week."

"And neither will you," Makarov answered. It would be the first time Price and MacTavish heard his voice, so cold in tonality, so sharp in quality. "Make sure that Anya gets out safely with you, Price, or I'll come after you myself."

Immediately, MacTavish shot a questioning look towards her. "Makarov, you ever hear the old saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Price asked Makarov, urgency increasing in the manner of which he spoke.

And this time, Makarov's reply was swift. "Price, one day you will find that it cuts both ways," he said. "Shepherd is using Site Hotel Bravo. You'll know where it is... I'll see you in hell..." With those words, nothing was heard from Makarov anymore.

"I'll tell you where it is when we get on the plane," Anya announced, shooting down another one of Makarov's men who was about to hit MacTavish with the butt of his rifle. "Captain, let's go!" She knew that it was useless to keep stopping and shooting whoever would shoot them down. "We don't have any time left! Come on!"

Within mere minutes, Price had arrived at the LZ in a Jeep. "Soap, Anya, we're leaving!" Price shouted towards them, his arms flailing about wildly, gesturing them to get into the Jeep. Immediately, they reloaded their weapons and shot down as many enemy vehicles as they could.

"Nikolai, drop the bloody ramp!" Price shouted when Nikolai's plane was in sight. They were going at break-neck speeds, so fast that Anya knew that it was useless if they tried to aim anymore. Her sapphire eyes, they looked towards a familiar-looking Little Bird which flew across the skies... It was Makarov's.

"Rook!" MacTavish shouted. The 141 soldier responsible for driving the Jeep was killed by one of the gunners on a rampaging technical. He quickly took the wheel, seeing as Rook's foot was still on the accelerator. Within seconds, they were in the plane...

* * *

And that was where everything began.

* * *

The very moment Anya got off the jeep, she felt her entire body being struck against the cold walls of the plane. "Talk, Anya, what did Makarov promise you?" MacTavish asked her, pounding his fist next to her head. "Why did you help us to save Price? Why didn't you tell us earlier that Shepherd was a traitor?"

"You wouldn't even believe me if I just told you that straight out!" Anya shouted back. "If I came back with Price, Shepherd would most probably have us both killed on the spot!" She knew that Price would not easily trust Shepherd immediately, and Shepherd would most likely be wary with the old SAS captain as well. Although Price was immediately absorbed into the 141, she could not reveal herself at that moment in time. "He would have told all of you that I was an Ultranationalist, and all of you would kill me then and there!"

"But aren't you one?" MacTavish answered back, receiving a slap from Anya in return.

"I am an American, MacTavish," she spat. "But that doesn't change the fact that I owe Makarov my life!" Her sapphire eyes, they were filled with burning vehemence, so much different from what she had been just a few moments ago. "Without him, I could not have been able to even stand next to you right here!"

Price quickly pulled the two of them from one another. "Alright, you two, break it up!" Once he had spoken, neither of them dared to do anything else. Ice blue eyes and sapphire orbs they remained in each other's gazes, each threatening to kill one another if the other made a false move. "Soap, you're just angry at yourself over what happened, it wasn't Anya's fault," the old Captain said to his former subordinate. "And Anya, what were you thinking? Did you think that going with Makarov, you could solve all your problems?"

Anya could not answer that question at all. She used to think with her brain, and never with her heart... At this one time, when she decided to take her own matters into her own hands, and followed her own instincts... The world had turned 360 degrees. She knew that she would not be able to live the life she had once lived, but she knew, that even if anyone else would denounce her as a traitor to her own country, it would be what she had wanted to do, once Shepherd was dead and gone.

* * *

HAN: Hey there! It's been a long, long time since I've talked to all of you! How are you guys? Well, I would like to take the opportunity to thank ecto1B for all the support she's given me, and the other reviewers as well, especially NoRussianYouFool, who is my friend in real life. As you can see, this fic is coming to an end, but it's not too late in telling you that I really appreciated all the constructive criticism given to me. Ehehehehehe. What can't kill me would only make me much stronger, eh?

And oh yes, I've come up with two songs that would set the mood a little for the fic, especially in those Makarov-Anya scenes. For Anya's part, I chose the Catalyst by Linkin Park, which I think fits her rather well, based on the lyrics and the meaning that they carry. As for Makarov, it's Starlight, by Slash, featuring Myles Kennedy. These songs rock to the max, and I hope that you would enjoy them as much as I do.

Well, until the next update, bye! Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	13. Just Like Old Times

The flight from Kandahar to Site Hotel Bravo would take about one hour, more than enough time for Price, MacTavish and Anya to prepare for the next stage of their mission. "Hey, you alright?" Nikolai asked Anya, who was sitting next to him as he drove the plane. Her sapphire eyes looked towards him and nodded slightly. "So, what about you and Makarov?"

"I owe him my life," she answered. It was the only answer that she could give him, because it was the only answer that she knew. Her sapphire eyes, they looked at the controls of the plane, unable to look at her own reflection in the windows of the plane. "Nikolai, Makarov could have killed me, but he didn't. More than that, he gave me a chance to avenge my own country..."

Nikolai looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He was a Russian, he knew that ever since the Ultranationalist party had risen, Vladimir Makarov had been almost famous for being ruthless and heartless. However, it was these tactics that caused him to be feared, yet, he had a great number of followers... "Didn't you ever think that he might be using you?"

At this question, Anya smiled bitterly. "Do you think that a few nights of passionate love-making with an international terrorist would kill half my brain cells?" she asked him in return. There was no doubt that she knew that Makarov was using her. It was a common understanding between the two of them. She worked for him in whatever he wanted, she would get her own revenge... Such a deal reduced any risk that Makarov would have, while she was a willing, and expendable form of aid.

So, she really was with Makarov in that... way. "So, what do you see in him then?"

"I don't know..." Anya answered. "But when I'm with him, I've felt the safest... Aren't I a freaking dumbass?"

"Well, love is blind, right?" Nikolai replied. Her sapphire eyes immediately flashed with a light that the pilot could not place. What... did he say anything wrong?

Did Anya love him? She did not know. Truth be told, she did not even know what her feelings for him were. As she had told Nikolai, all she knew that whenever Makarov was near, even in the heat of battle, she felt safer than anywhere in the world. She was a soldier, she had seen more death and carnage than ever before... She was not afraid of death, but she was afraid not being able to help her countrymen in stopping Shepherd.

When she was with Makarov, she knew that there was nothing that she needed to fear. Her deepest, darkest nightmares were kept at bay when he held his arms around her... It had happened before, and she knew it well. At best, Anya could only admit to herself that what she had felt with Makarov, she had never felt anywhere else in the world, or with anyone. Thus, she could only roll her eyes, and swat Nikolai in the arm.

"Alright, alright," Nikolai surrendered. "I was only joking." There was a genuine smile on her part, and he was relieved that she was not offended. "We'll land in about twenty minutes, Anya. Would you please tell the other two that?"

Anya nodded, and walked towards Price and MacTavish. "Nikolai said that we'd be landing in twenty minutes," she told them, and received a knowing gesture from Price. MacTavish, however, continued to look her in the eye, silently as he stood near the jeep. She was about to make her way back to her seat next to Nikolai when the younger Captain caught her by the wrist, almost hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," he said, running a hand down his Mohawk as he let go of her wrist. "I shouldn't have overreacted as I did." This man, he was a great leader. Anya had no problem seeing him rising through the ranks just as quickly as he had previously done. His previous outburst only proved how much he had cared for his teammates, another piece of evidence of how connected all of them were to one another, with him at their head.

"They were your brothers," she replied, "At least you took their deaths better than I would... Look what I did when I knew that Shepherd was gonna send thousands of Americans to their deaths against the Russians." MacTavish looked at her and ruffled the top of her golden head, much to her annoyance.

He smiled, and said, "You're a good kid, Allen. You really are." His attention soon turned to Price, who had finished arming his weapons. All of them, had the same amount of weapons with them, the last vestiges of what they had taken with them from the Task Force 141 submarine base... Each of them would have _a _CheyTac Intervention Bolt-Action Sniper Rifle, a pair of night-vision Goggles, a suppressed Vector with ACOG Sight, an M1911 Colt .45 pistol, four flashbangs, four Frag Grenades, and a combat knife...

Not particularly ideal, but it was what they had at that time. "Looks like we'll be heading to a real suicide mission," Anya mused. In the past week, she had been used to these morbid thoughts that came into her head, and the strange thing was, she did not even fear them anymore. Optimism seemed greatly to be a luxury as things continued on.

This time, however, it seemed like MacTavish agreed with her. "We've got one good UMP, and they've got a thousand," he added. "We don't even know if Makarov's intel is any good..." He knew that Anya would not contest to what he had said, judging by her expression. The world had gotten too unstable to anticipate anything, but it seemed that she still trusted that man, no matter what. "Price?" he asked his former Captain, who continued to stare at their direction. "Price?"

"The healthy human mind doesn't wake up in the morning thinking that this is its last day on Earth," Price told the two of them. "But I think that's a luxury, not a curse. To know that you're close to the end is a kind of freedom... Good time to take inventory." Anya looked at the older man, but did not say anything. In some respect, what he had said was kind of true, especially to her. "Outgunned, outmanned, out of our minds, on a suicide mission... But the sand and rocks here, stained with thousands of years of warfare, they will remember us, for this, because out of the vast array of all our nightmares, this is one we chose for ourselves. We'll go forward like a breath exhaled from the Earth, with vigour in our hearts, and one goal in sight... We will kill him."

At those last four words, he held both his hands to MacTavish's and Anya's shoulders. Once they got to Shepherd, the lives of the Task Force 141 members that he and his men had claimed would be avenged, and perhaps, with the American army leaderless, they would halt its war with Russia...

* * *

Cpl. Maria "Anya" Allen (AKA Ultranationalist Codename "Anya")

Task Force 141

Site Hotel Bravo, Afghanistan

* * *

They had already landed, and desert camo covered over their bodies as they started to use the scope of their sniper rifles to determine where Site Hotel Bravo really was... "I'll wait for you at the exfil point, three hours," Nikolai told them over their comms.

Price, had a different opinion, on the other hand. "Don't bother," he told Nikolai. "This is a one-way flight, mate."

Sighing, Nikolai could only reply, "Then good luck, my friend."

They picked up a thermal spike over the ridge, as Price had detected. The cave had to be somewhere near them... It just had to. It turned out that they even had a decryption code with them, also supplied by Makarov, one that he had sent to Price just before he had dropped contact with them in the Boneyard.

From what they heard, there were about two teams below them, possibly on reconnaissance. Two teams with a dog with them each. "Look, Captain, your favourite," Anya teased MacTavish with a nudge of her elbow, causing him to roll his eyes at her. During their mission in Petropavlosk, he had expressed his utmost hatred for dogs quite blatantly, and she, being a dog-person, had never stopped dropping small hints of the sort to him since then.

Quickly, they took out the two dog-patrols, and were ready to move on. "We don't have much time before they find the bodies," Price warned them.

"There, I see the cave entrance down there," Anya said, holding onto the railings as she bent down away from the ledge for a closer look. Site Hotel Bravo was exactly where Makarov had told them. Together with Price and MacTavish, she repelled down the rock-face following a big leap, each taking out the guards that stood right outside the cave by stabbing their combat knives into their chests, covering their mouths to stop them from making a sound.

"Let's go"

Anya did not know who said it, but it was a clear sign that they were going into the dragon's den.

* * *

The shootout happened right then and there, in the dark. Shadow Company must have known that their base was being intruded, but it was obvious then, that their identities were still intact. They had sent a team known as Disciple Six towards them, ranging about twenty-fully armed soldiers, but to no avail. Just as soon as they had been deployed into the area, all of them had been killed by the three of them.

"Move!" Price shouted as they ascended a flight of stairs which led them towards a catwalk.

"Disciple Nine, your rearguard just flatlined!"

"Not possible... We just cleared that area..."

It was then when they heard Shepherd's voice, confirming once and for all that he was there with his precious new, team of elite soldiers. "It's Price!" he warned. "Backup priority items and burn the rest," he instructed his men. "Fireteams, just delay'em until we're ready to pull out!"

That was the last straw. Like a coward, he would shirk from a fight, bringing every shred of evidence that he had with him... Now, the entire base was on high alert, it would be very, very hard, if not impossible to get out of there alive, but still, it was what they had to do, if they were to get Shepherd.

With MacTavish taking point with a riot shield, Anya and Price took down any enemy opposition as they advanced through the catwalks, which led them to yet another cave, known to the Shadow Company as the "crow's nest", where Shepherd would be escorted out.

They were running out of time, and they knew it. Every second wasted in pursuit was a second lost, but still, they knew that they had to push on, no matter what. "Butcher Two roping into Sector Papa Quebec!" they heard, and saw a group of about ten men repelling down from a helicopter, armed with riot shields.

Without even thinking, Anya cooked one of her frag grenades, throwing it beside a few steel drums containing explosives, killing all of them in a few seconds. But that did not mean that their list of enemies were on the decline. One the contrary, the moment they had entered adjacent cave, they were met with more soldiers, who popped smoke all over the place.

That was not good at all. None of their weapons had thermal sights on them. This time, they changed their roles, Price was the one who would draw their fire, while Anya and MacTavish flanked them from either side. At one point, Anya had run out of ammo, and decided to throw caution to the wind that grabbed the nearest weapon next to her, which was an ACR with a heartbeat sensor, not the most useful weapon, but at least it was the one most commonly used in the area, which usually meant that extra ammunition would be more accessible.

"MacTavish, look at that door over there!" she told MacTavish, who was looking in the same direction as she did. There was a door, almost concealed in the cave walls, due to its colour and the lack of light around them.

Apparently, Price saw it too, and told them to get a frame charge on the door. Without any delay, Anya did as instructed and breached the door while Price and MacTavish covered her, shooting the men inside once the coast was clear. "All units pleased be advised, the site has been compromised," Shepherd's voice could be heard through the comms again. "I'm executive directive 116 Bravo, if you're still inside, your service will be honoured, Shepherd out."

Quickly bolting towards the controls of the doors, Price and MacTavish overrode the controls, leading Anya out of there before the explosives in the room had been detonated. They had just barely escaped, but that was not even the end of their pursuit... It was only the beginning.

"I'm tired of this," Anya cursed, and grabbed an AT-4 that had been lying around near where she was standing. Taking aim at the enemy helicopter deploying more Shadow Company combatants towards them, she shot it down before any personnel could be thrown at them, which left them a rather large handful of them...It seemed endless, the round after round, there seemed to be no end to the amount of men in Shadow Company that came rampaging towards the three of them.

At the corner of his eye, MacTavish could see yet another cave, where the men had been coming from. There was a high probability that Shepherd would be there as well...

"Sir, sandstorm activity is picking up here... It's too risky for flight ops."

"Understood, head for the tunnel, we'll take the Zodiacs."

Zodiacs? That meant that there would be a river somewhere near them... "Head for the tunnel!" Price shouted. "He's getting away! Shepherd mentioned Zodiacs, there must be river access nearby, let's go!"

"Hopefully, he's run out of hiding places," Anya grumbled as they fought their way into the tunnel. There really was a river... And luckily for them, there was another Zodiac, right there, as if someone had purposely placed it there for them.

MacTavish nodded, "He'll have nowhere to run, don't worry."

Thus, they got onto the Zodiac, and begun their final pursuit of Shepherd, hopefully it would not be for nothing...


	14. Endgame

Capt. John "Soap" MacTavish

Task Force 141

Waterfall, off Site Hotel Bravo

* * *

He coughed out every single trace of water in his lungs, finding only Anya by his side. He could not see where Price or their Zodiac were. "Anya... get up..." he murmured towards her, pumping at her chest to get the water out of her system. "Come on, we don't have much time left."

As any obedient soldier, she opened her sapphire eyes and spluttered out more water than he had in him. "Captain..." she said, her fiery voice no more than a hoarse whisper. MacTavish smiled slightly, and helped her to rise as she picked up the M4A1 next to her.

The smell of burning metal, rubber and flesh was rank in the air, getting heavier and heavier as they got further from the riverbank. There was a Shadow Company man, crawling his way towards them using only his arms. Anya shot him dead, placing him out of his misery, while MacTavish spotted the crash site.

There was another one, lying on top of the pile of debris. A gun was in his hand, emitting clicking sounds as he tried to shoot the two of them. MacTavish slashed him to his death with his combat knife. "I'll look for Shepherd," she told him, and went around the helicopter when they heard a loud clanking sound.

There, from the burning inferno, was Shepherd, but before she was able to raise her M4A1 to shoot him down, he punched her in the stomach, pushing her out of the way as he evaded MacTavish, who quickly gave chase until he got to a broken down car. Anya was a strong woman, she would recover from that punch in no time...

Meanwhile he knew what he had to do, even he was only armed with a combat knife. With what he had left in him, he walked towards Shepherd, who was resting against the car, holding an arm over his side. There was no doubt that he had been injured due to the crash...

"You know what they say about revenge?" Shepherd asked him. "You better be ready to dig two graves..." MacTavish did not reply, only looking at the man, responsible for every single thing that had happened all this while. This man was the man who founded the Task Force 141, this man was the one who had recruited man after man, the best of the best in the world in the SpecOps field, just for vengeance... He didn't even know for what!

Anya could see his intentions with only one shot from Vladimir Makarov, but he... He had followed this man's orders for five years, he had followed those orders to the death. Countless comrades had died, because of this one man... Roach, Ghost, Archer, Toad, Scarecrow, Meat, Royce, Chemo... There were too many names, too many faces and souls.

Now, only did he understand why Anya would rather associate with Makarov just to see him dead. Only now did he understand how she had felt, when she was at the brink of death so dark, she knew that she could not bring herself to die, knowing that she had to complete her duty to her country, and the entire world, for that matter. Too many Americans and Russians had been sacrificed, just because of this one man...

"Go ahead... End it... It won't change anything..."

MacTavish knew that it was not true. With Shadow Company leaderless, they could not do any more damage than they already had done. With Shepherd gone, all the lives that had been taken would be avenged, and that already, was a great difference.

He closed his eyes, and willed himself to raise his arm, but everything failed him. He had been utterly spent, spending the whole day, running through the rugged Afghan terrain. There were rounds, lodged in every possible of his body, non-lethal, but they brought him down...

"You're a good warrior," Shepherd added. "But you could never take that extra step... to do whatever is necessary..."

It was then when he lunged at Shepherd, but with his injuries, the general was able to retaliate, and bang his head against the frame of the car, knocking him temporarily out cold...

* * *

When MacTavish opened his eyes, Shepherd was standing over him, ready to stab him with his own combat knife, but before anything could happen, a gunshot was heard. He turned around, and found Anya standing straight, with the M4A1 in her hands.

"This ends now, Shepherd," she said, sapphire eyes filled with more than just vehemence, but also anger, hatred, pain and rage. "You're not gonna send people to their deaths for your own goals anymore." There was a stray tear down her cheek, and Shepherd clutched his stomach as he tried to rise, chuckling in a blood-curdling manner.

"I never thought that you would associate with the man that you were assigned to take down, Allen," Shepherd spat, walking towards Anya step by step. "I should have known better than to send a woman to do a man's job. You fell in love with him on the spot..."

Anya took another shot, this time, it was his calf, causing him to kneel. "I don't care what you say about me," she told him. "I just need you dead, sir." She knew that she should not do this, he was an unarmed prisoner, but when she remembered the men who had died under his service, the women and children that she had killed because she had been following his orders, the soldiers of the 141 that she was forced to take down...

She closed her eyes and locked her finger on the trigger after aiming towards his heart. She could see the pool of his blood, and at that moment, she slumped onto the ground, breaking into tears. MacTavish got to his feet, and held her in his arms.

"It's alright, Anya," he told her, "He's gone now, it's over..."

Anya nodded, and continued to cry. Her sapphire eyes, they had become red and puffy. An eternity passed, and she could no longer cry any more tears... "Thanks, Captain," she told him, after letting out all of the sadness, and all of the pain that she had in her.

Her eyes, they then focused at the knife lying on the ground. Ignoring the sounds of Price walking towards them, and the Little Bird that was approaching, she walked towards the lone weapon, and did the unthinkable.

* * *

Captain Price had been sure that Anya had the greatest potential to be a leader, she would have a great career in the military after this mess was sorted out, he just knew it. But the moment she thrust the combat knife into her own body, he could not understand why that silly girl would do anything like it.

And the strangest thing was that she did not even wince, she only looked towards the riverbank's direction, and smiled, trying to remain in her own composure. "MacTavish... Price..." she called out to the two of them with the smile that had been so characteristic of her, raising out her hand towards them. "Thank you for everything... I know that it's only been a few days, but it's like I've known you two all my life..."

Soon, a figure was visible, a man, dark-haired and tall, leanly muscular in a suit with body armor over it... "Anya!" he shouted, breaking into a run, catching her the very second she started to collapse. "Anya..." He completely ignored Price and MacTavish, or he did not see them, all he could see was her, with the knife in her body.

"Makarov..." she murmured, her smile getting wider. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Makarov brushed her hair off her face and smiled back. "I had to come back, for someone..." Before he was able to continue, MacTavish pressed Anya's M4A1 against his temple, causing his expression to change almost immediately.

"Makarov, you're under arrest," he said, heaving a long, labored breath, however, he stopped when he felt Anya's arm on his ankles. "Anya... what are you doing?"

Anya shook her head the very moment she looked at him. She did not speak any further, but Price, on the other hand, understood what she meant. He also knew that Anya, she would not allow them to do anything to Makarov while she was alive... From the looks of her, he knew that she would not live to last the day anyways.

"Come on, Soap," Price told MacTavish, when Nikolai's Little Bird landed near them. "We'll get'em another day."

* * *

Once they had left, Makarov looked at Arya, and picked her up in his arms. "Makarov, where are you taking me?" she asked, looking into his heterochromic eyes. Makarov did not answer, but she knew already knew where he would take her. "Alright, if you won't stop, I'm going to pull the knife out..."

"You fool!" Makarov scolded, immediately setting her down. He knew that in all good sense, he should continue walking, but the fear that she would do as she had threatened; it scared him to no end... "You've come so far to achieve what you have wished, why would you choose such a fate?"

Anya only smiled, and caressed the side of his face. "I should have died a long time ago, remember?" she asked him. It was not a question, it was a fact, and Makarov knew it more than anyone. "I swore to God that I would readily die again once Shepherd was dead..."

Makarov did not allow her to speak further. He silenced her with yet another kiss, and pried her hands away from the knife. However, she was not one to be taken lightly. She took control of the kiss, and ended it abruptly. "I love you..." he told her, holding her tighter than ever before. He knew that the very moment that he had seen her, the very moment that he tasted her lips, he could never be free of her. The woman in his arms, she was more than an intelligent soldier, she was a soldier who had a future, but she had cast everything away, for only one word: vengeance, but that vengeance, had not been hers in the first place. Her thoughts, were with her country and her countrymen, her life, it belonged not to her... They were so much alike, if only she could have seen it...

"Makarov, please..." she pleaded once more, inwardly hoping that he did not say it just to placate her, or to comfort her before she died.

"Anya, do you know why I couldn't kill you?" he asked her, kissing her forehead. "I had to see you again. I knew that it was selfish of me, but it was the only way I knew how to bring you back to me..." If he had just let her die there back at the airport, she would not have seen what she had seen, nor would she have the intention to kill Shepherd to avenge herself and the others that he had caused to die...

A teardrop fell from her eyes, and he kissed it away. "Without you, I couldn't have gotten back into the 141," she whispered to him, her smile more brilliant than ever. "Without you, I wouldn't have the chance to know all of them... Makarov, you gave me everything that I gained... Even if you would kill me all over again, I would do it again."

It was her way of telling him that she loved him too, there was no way around it. In that short time that they had been together, he had come to understand her more than anyone could, and vice versa. "Anya..." he murmured, kissing her softly.

"I have something for you, Makarov," she said, wincing as she reached into one of the compartments of her Kevlar corset. It was her Task Force 141 badge, and a necklace with a locket, with a little family portrait held inside. "Give my parents my badge, if you have the chance... And the necklace was a gift from my parents, when I joined the Rangers... They said that wherever I went, they would always be watching over me... It has never left my side. I want you do keep this, to remember me by... I want you to bring my ashes throughout Mother Russia, after I leave, too. I want to see what is it about her that you wanna kill so many people for..."

"You'll pull through this, Anya," Makarov replied, suddenly feeling so helpless. He was the leader of the Ultranationalists, so much so that Boris Vorshevsky had only been a figurehead at the head of the Kremlin, but he was unable to save the one woman he loved. "With you by my side, we shall be invincible... We will create a new world order, Anya, no one will ever doubt you ever again. Then, we'll travel across Russia together, only you and I..."

Anya could only smile weakly as his words. "You know that it's impossible for me to do that, Makarov... " she told him. "Please... Let me go."

"Don't force me to kill you again, Anya," Makarov begged, the only time in his life when he had done so. She only smiled at him, and held his hands around the knife. She knew that he would be unwilling to do so, but she had already made her decision, and no one, not even he, could force her to change her mind.

Makarov just looked at her, knowing that once he pulled out the knife, her death would come swiftly. Closing his eyes, he quickly finished the deed, and cast away the weapon, holding her tightly, as if she would not go away at all once he did so. "I love you..." she whispered softly into his neck, and he nodded, taking her lips once more in a final kiss.

Her blood, it flew quickly from her body, forming a large puddle with the two of them in its center. This was the woman that he had loved, and all that he could do for her, was only this... The knife had been lodge where a major blood vessel was, and the moment that it was removed, she started to lose blood faster and faster by the second... It would not be long now...

"Makarov, look..." she said, looking skywards. "You can really see the moon when it's still daylight..."

Those words prompted Makarov to look up, finding the full moon where Anya had indicated, unmarred, unchanged as it had always been, its beauty ever-present, just like hers. "Silly girl..." he chided, but when he looked towards her, her sapphire eyes had already closed, with a smile on her face that could have blotted out the sun... "Be in peace, my love," he whispered into her ear. Even in death, she had looked as beautiful as she had been alive, and now, it was only enhanced by the sense of peace that had washed over her.

* * *

It was right there, in the deserts of Afghanistan where young Maria Allen had found peace and freedom from the torture of vengeance and hatred, but wherever her spirit would go, she would always remember, that it was in that rundown apartment in the heart of Moscow, where she had found love, in the most morbidly extraordinary of places, in the form of a man, known to the world to be awash with the blood of thousands, but had loved her, in his own way and manner.

Perhaps no one would tell that part of their story, when all those who knew it were dead and gone, but Makarov knew, that it did not matter. All that mattered to him was that he remembered that it was at that cold, gloomy afternoon when he had met a woman more beautiful than anyone he had seen, a woman that he would love deeply than any other, even though he had known her for little more than a week.

Beautiful...

Yes, that was the word that he would only use to describe her. There would be nothing else.


	15. Epilogue

Six Months Later

* * *

It was exactly six months to the day when Mr. and Mrs. Allen had received news that their daughter had been one of the "terrorists" that had participated in the massacre of Zakhaev International Airport. They had not believed that their daughter would take part in such a dark cause, nor did they believe that it was an American operation… They just held on to the fact that their Maria was innocent, and one day, just one day, she would come back to them. She never did.

However, that did not change the fact that their daughter's actions, whether framed or not, had sparked a war between Russia and America. The Russians had invaded the East Coast of the United States almost immediately after she had been identified, but a little more than a week after the war had started, the general in charge of the counterattacks had been assassinated, by unknown individuals… The American military had traced the round that killed General Shepherd back to an organization known as the Shadow Company, which had been so blacked out that even the heads of state of several governments had a hard time getting information about them.

"All this fighting and for what?" Mr. Allen asked his wife as the news anchor reported that the war had ended with Vladimir Makarov, the Supreme Commander of the Russian Armed Forces proclaimed that it was pointless for Russia and America to continue fighting, but only if the United Nations would not start any investigations regarding the war… "Our Maria died for nothing…"

Mrs. Allen could only sigh, but before she could say anything, her thoughts had been interrupted by the doorbell. Who would be visiting at that time of day, and at that time of year? She opened the door, and found a man with eyes of blue and green. "I come on behalf of your daughter, madam," he said, in a Russian accent. This man… Where had she seen him before?

"How did you know Maria?" Mrs. Allen asked him, looking at him, scanning him from head to toe. This man, he was much, much older than her daughter was, and he was a Russian, by the looks of it. She really did not understand… There was no possibility that he could be her superior unless…

"Who's that at the door, dear?" Mr. Allen asked, coming out from the living room. He balked when he saw the man at the door… This man… he had just stopped the Russo-American war. His face had just been shown on the TV! "What are you doing here?" he asked the man, not knowing how to react.

The man said nothing, only showing Mr. and Mrs. Allen two objects. One of them, was the locket that they had given to her before she had been shipped off to Afghanistan with the US Army Rangers, and the other, was a badge, carrying the strangest military emblem that they had ever saw, but with her name below it.

"I loved her," he told them straight out, there was no need to hide it. "You may not understand why, and how, but it was Maria's dying wish that you would have this badge." With those words, he gave them Anya's Task Force 141 badge. "The Task Force 141 was an international Spec-Ops Task Force, where only the best of the best could serve. Your daughter had been their designated sniper, however short her service had been."

Mr. and Mrs. Allen were dumbfounded. Their daughter, a part of an international elite Task Force? She didn't even tell them anything. The man said nothing more, but reached into his jacket pocket to give them a disc. He told them that all would be revealed once they had looked at the videos inside it. Just as he made to leave, Mr. Allen said, "I think it would be better if you watched Maria's videos with us," he said.

* * *

"Hey Mom and Dad," it was their Maria. She was no more wearing her US Army Ranger uniform, but something more streamlined, and figure-hugging. But there would be no mistake, that it was their little Maria. "Look, I'm in the Task Force 141! It's the prima donna squad, if you're asking Dad, only the best can make it here, and I got in!"

* * *

The elation and the joy in her voice, it had been so evident, but mere seconds later, everything changed. "I'm gonna be on a mission in Russia. I'll be placed beside Vladimir Makarov as a new agent of his. I don't know what he will ask me to do, but Shepherd told me that I would lose a piece of myself… Please, if you guys hear anything that says I've done terrible things, I'm only working undercover, alright?"

The video feed blacked out, and when her face reappeared, she had changed almost completely. She looked tired, very, very tired, and her cheerful disposition had disappeared… She seemed to be in a large mansion, somewhere in a mountainous region. "Hey, it's me again. Makarov shot me, yeah. But I know that I'm forced to work with him now… Shepherd betrayed all of us, he hired Makarov to attack the freaking airport, and I was only the scapegoat… I'm not dead, well, not yet, anyways. I'm gonna head to Rio to settle a few things for him. I'll talk you soon, alright?"

* * *

"Mom, Dad… I'm back from Rio, and this time, I'm going all the way to Petropavlosk. I'm supposed to help the Task Force 141 to free Prisoner 627, I don't know who he is, but Makarov seems to hate him a lot. After that, I'm gonna have to act as a double agent this time. Isn't it ironic? But at least I'll get to know them better. And Mom, I know that you might scream my head off, but Makarov… he's starting to grow on me. There's something about him that just… I don't know. I'll talk to you later, if I can."

* * *

"Hey, I think that this is gonna be the last video I can record to you guys. I don't even know how I can get this to you guys… Tomorrow morning, I'll be heading to Afghanistan with MacTavish and Price to try to look for Makarov. Shepherd's using this opportunity to kill us off, I just know it. Mom, Dad, I love you… And if anything happens to me this time, I'm sorry for everything… I hope that I hadn't let you down or anything…"

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Allen looked at the videos, each and every one of them again and again… Their daughter, really was one of the people responsible for the attack on Zakhaev International Airport, and not only that, she had been betrayed by her own superior. Through their daughter, they discovered that the war, was just the biggest hoax in history, a complete waste of lives, time and energy. Without her, the war could have been dragged on further, they just knew it.

"You're Vladimir Makarov?" Mrs. Allen asked the man, who nodded silently in answer. He would only be a few years younger than her own husband, at the most, how would her daughter ever fall for him? But, deep down inside, she knew that Maria would not simply give her heart to anyone so lightly. She must have cared deeply for him, and by the looks of it, he returned whatever feelings she had for him.

This man, was supposed to be an evil man, and there was no doubt that Maria knew that. When she was growing up, his terrorist attacks in Europe had been as evident as that of the al-Qaeda's in the Middle East. Mrs. Allen could even remember a conversation with her daughter regarding his cold, effective manner when he crashed that train car into Piccadilly Circus… How did he have come to love Maria, could never be known, but it happened anyways.

"How did she… go?" Mr. Allen asked, finding no other words to say.

"She killed herself, after she killed Shepherd, sir," Makarov answered. His voice, it remained unshaken, but his voice lingered at the TV set. The frame had been paused to when Anya had told her parents about her acceptance into the 141… He had never seen her so genuinely happy before. "There was nothing I could have done to dissuade her… I'm sorry. Anya had been resilient, passionate, and everything else in between and I promise you, that only she could have taken her own life." Anya? Why would Makarov call Maria "Anya"?

Makarov did not offer any more explanations. He knew that he would just tear their hearts open to know that up until the time of her death, Anya had suffered traumatizing nightmares that she had been on the verge of breaking. If she had chosen to live instead, Makarov knew that it would not be a life that she would have ever wanted… "There is one more thing," he added before he left. "She told me to scattered her ashes all across Russia, but I would understand if you would want them back as well…"

There had been a long silence after that, but it was affirmative that Anya's parents would want nothing more than to see their daughter's dying wish to be fulfilled. They did not know why she would want him to do that, but it was what she had wanted. With a nod, Mr. Allen told him that he was to execute whatever Anya asked of him, causing his heart to soar, even if he did not show it.

That had been the last and only time he had seen her parents.

* * *

Two years later.

Petropavlosk Submarine Base

* * *

"I knew that you were the happiest in your time here," Makarov said, reaching into the black urn bearing Anya's photograph. It had been the last handful of her ashes, and he had saved the best for last. This was where, two years ago, Price had launched the nuclear missile into the atmosphere that caused the EMP over Washington DC, evening the scales between the Russian and American soldiers.

It had been two years since then, two years since she had left the world. She did not know that after she had passed on, he had taken full command of the Russian Federation's armies, coming into light in a more frightening manner than could ever be imagined, but she did not need to. Perhaps, she had already seen it coming…

"You know, I should like to know what you are up to these days," he added as he cast her ashes into the sea. "But you won't even come to me in my dreams…" His voice had been cut off by a sudden gust of wind, blown from the cold, winter's sea. His eyes, they were then met with a sudden flutter of gold and blue.

There it was, a butterfly, fluttering softly, encircling him; a butterfly with golden wings, and "eyes" on the tips of its wings of sapphire-hue. She (he immediately assumed that it was female), seemed to want to tell him something, constantly flying circles around him for a good few minutes, before flying straight towards the sea…

The water was cold, but Makarov could not care less. The closer he was able to follow the little butterfly, the further it flew away… But the further he was from the shore, he could see _her_, becoming more and more solid in form… Soon, the water had already risen over his head, but still, he could see _her_, right before him.

"Anya…" he murmured, and was engulfed by a white light blinded him on the spot.

* * *

"Well, look who finally decided to drop in…"

That voice, it was so familiar to him, the voice that he had heard now, only in his dreams, never during his waking moments... It was Anya, it really was Anya… She was no longer in her leather and Kevlar catsuit, nor was she armed in any way. Dressed only in a simple, white dress, she held out her hand to him, which he took without any question.

They were in a green field, filled with flowers of every hue, as well as thousands more of the butterfly that he had just seen. "Where are we?" he asked her, drawing her into his arms. It had been a long, long time since he had done so, to smell her scent once more. Before she could speak, he pressed his lips against hers, savoring her sweet taste once again. The kiss seemed to last an eternity, ending only when she smiled, and took his hands in hers.

She did not answer, only plastering her body closer to his, kissing him in return, her smile that told him everything, and yet nothing, had been so evident on her face. "Shh..." she hushed him, placing her white finger on his lips as she led him to sit with amongst the flowers with her, his head resting on her lap. "We're home, and that's all that matters, Makarov."

Home... that sounded nice, very nice indeed. Thus, finally at peace with himself, finally with reunited with the woman that he loved, Makarov closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep in his own little version of heaven, knowing that this time, everything that he had just seen, they would not disappear, including her.

* * *

HAN: Well, this is yet another piece of evidence that with the right touch, you can indeed turn an epic war-related game with all that testosterone into a sappy love story. If you like it, or if you hated it, I would love to hear more from all of you. I have a few ideas for a sequel, without Anya, obviously, about how Makarov, Price and Soap handles the war after all this. Or would you rather wait until MW3 comes out and we'll look at it from there?


End file.
